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M374 ( 





Ifttat? at &B 9ttt!)0W. 









VOL. ni. 





LELAND ST ., ' > '■'. wsfjy, 

AUG! 100] 





Black-friers^ by the Chfldren 
of her Maiesties Revels. 


Made by 

Geo. Chapman, Ben. Ionson, Ioh, Mabston. 

£#p At London: Printed for William Asp%. z6o6. 



NOT out of envy, for ther 's no effecst 
Where there 's no cause ; nor out of imitatioii. 
For we hare erer more bin imitated ; 
Nor out of our contention to doe better 
Ihen that which is opposd to ours m title. 
For that was good ; and better cannot be. 
And for the title, if it seeme affected. 
We might as well have calde it, God you good Eren : 
Onely that east-ward west-wards still exceedes. 
Honour the sunnes faire rising, not his setting. 
Nor is our title utterly enforcte. 
As by the points we touch at you shall see. 
Beare with our willing paines, if dull or witty. 
Wee onely dedicate it to the Cittye. 




Enter Maister Touchstone and Quicksilveb at several 
dares; Qutckstlyeb loUh his hat, jmmps, short 
sword^ and dagger ^ and a racket trussed up under his 
chake. At the middle dore^ enter Golding dM* 
covering a GoldsmUhs shoppe, and walking short tumes 
. btfore it. 

Touch, S^^wM'^ ^ ^ whether with you now ? what loose 
action are you bound for P Come, 
what eomrades are you to meete with- 
all ? whers the supper P whers the 

Quidk, Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir 

Touch. Indeed, pnd in yery good sober truth, sir! 
Behind my back thou wilt sweare faster then a French 
foot-boy, and talke more baudily then a common widwife> 

4 EASTWARD HOE. [act i. 

and now indeed and in yeiy good sober truth, sir I but if 
a privie search shold be made, with what furniture are 
'you riggd now? Sirrah, I tell thee, I am thy maister, 
William Touchstone, goldsmith; and thou my prentise, 
Francis Quicksilver, and I will see whether you are 
running. Worke upon that now. 

Quich Why, sir, I hope a man may use his recreation 
with his masters profit. 

Touch, Prentises recreations are seldome with their 
masters profit. Worke upon that now. Ton shal give 
up your doake tho you be no alderman. Heyday 1 ruffins 
hal, sword, pumps, heers a racket indeed I 

[Touch. uncloakB Quicksilver. 

Quick. Worke upon that now. 

Touch. Thou shamelesse varlet, doest thou jest at thy 
lawfull maister contrary to thy indentures 1 

Q^ick. Zbloud, sir I my mother's a gentlewoman, and 
my father a justice of peace and of Quorum ; and tho 
I am a yonger brother and a prentise, yet I hope I am 
my fathers son ; and by Godslidde, tis for your worship 
and for your commodity that I keepe company. I am 
intertaind among gallants, true. They cal me cozen Franck, 
right ; I lend them monyes, good ; they spend it, welL 
But When they are spent, must not they strive to get 
more, must not their land flie ? and to whom P Shall not 
your worshippe ha' the refusall P Well, I am a good mem- 
ber of the Gitty if I were well considered. How would 
merchants thrive, if gentlemen would not be unthriftsP 
How could gentlemen bee unthiifts if their humours were 
not fedP How should their humours be fedde but by 
white meate, and cunning secojidings P Well, the Citty 
•^might consider us. I am going to an ordinary now; the 

.^. ^ -Li.^ . 

sc. I.] EASTWARD HOE. 5 

gallants fall to play ; I carry ligM golde with me ; the 
gallants call, Cozen Francke, some golde for silver; I 
change, gaine by it ; the gallants loose the golde ; and 
then call, CoozenFrancke, lend me some silver. Why 

Touch, Why? I cannot telL Seven score pound art 
thou out in the cash ; but looke to it, I will not be gal- 
lanted out of my monyes. And as for my rising by other 
mens fall, God shield me! did I gaine my wealth by 
ordinaries? no: by exchanging of gold? no: by keeping 
of gallants companie? no. I hired me a little shop, 
fought low, tooke small gaine, kept no debt booke, gar- 
nished my shop, for want of plate, with good wholesome 
thriftie sentences; as, "Touchstone, keepe thy shoppe, 
and thy shoppe will keepe thee.'' " light gaines make 
heavie purses." " Tis good to be merry and wise." And 
when I was wiv'de, having something to sticke too, I had 
the home of suretiship ever before my eyes. Ton all know 
the devise of the home, where the young fellow slippes in 
at the butte-end, and comes squesd out at the buckall : 
and I grew up, and I praise Providence, I beare my 
browes now as high as the best of my neighbours : but 

thou ^well, looke to the accounts ; your fathers bond 

lyes for you : seven score pound is yet in the reere. 

Quick, Why slid, sir, I have as good, as proper gallants 
words for it as any are in London; gentlemen of good 
phrase, perfect language, passingly behav'd; gallants that 
weare sockes and deane linnen, and call me kinde coozen 
Francke, good coozen Francke, for they know my father : 
and, by Grod slidde, shall I not trust 'hem ? — ^not trust ? 

Enter a Page^ as ingn^irinff for Touchstones shoppe. 

Gold, What doe ye lacke, sir? What ist you 'le buye» 

6 EASTWARD HOE. [act i. 

Touch, I many, sir; ther 's a youth of another peeoe. 
There 's thy feUowe prentise, as good a gentleman bonie 
as thou art : nay, and better mean'd. But does he pumpe 
it, or racket itP Well, if he thrive not, if hee out-bist 
not a hundred sudi crackling bavins as thou art, Gk)d and 
men neglect industry. 

Oold. It is his shop, and here my maister walkes. 


Touch. With me, boy P 

Page, My maister, Sir Petronell Flash, recommends his 
love to you, and will instantly visit you. 

Touch. To make up the match with my eldest daugh- 
ter, my wives dilling, whom she longs to call madam. 
Hee shall finde me unwillingly readie, boy. \ExU Page.'\ 
Ther 's another afSiction too. As I have two prentises^— 
the one of a boundlesse prodigalitie, the other of a most 
hopeful iudustrie — so have I onely two daughters : the 
eldest, of a proud ambition and nice wantonnesse ; the 
other of a modest humilitie and comely sobemesse. The 
one must bee ladyfied, forsooth, and be attir'd just to the 
court-cut, and long tayle. So farre is shee ill natorde 
to the place and meanes of my preferment and fortune, 
that shee throwesall the contempt and despight, hatred 
it selfe can cast upon it. Well, a peece of land she has, 
'twas her grandmothei^ gift; let her, and her Sir 
Petronel, flash out that ;. but as for my substance, shee 
that skomes me, as I am a citizen, and trades-man, 
shall never pamper her pride with my industry; shall 
never use me as men. do foxes, keepe themselves warme 
in the skinne, and throwe the bodie that bare it to the 
dung-hill. I must goe entertaine this Sir Petronell. 
Goidding, my utmost care 's for thee, and onely trust in 

80. 1.] EASTWARD HOE. 7 

thee ; looke to tlie shop. As for yon, Maister Quickesilverf 
thinke of huskes, for thy course is running directly to 
the prodigalls hogs trough; huskes, sra. Worke upon 
that now. [Exit Touchstone. 

Qjuiek, lAsx^ fough, goodman flap-cap ; Sfoot 1 tho I am 
a prentise I can gives armes ; my Other's a justice a peace 
by descent, and zbloud I 

OM. Fye, how you sweare I 

QmoJc, Sfoote, man, I am a gentleman, and may sweare 
by my pedegree. Gx>ds my life 1 Sirrah Goulding, wilt 
bee ruled by a foole.? Tume goode fellow, tume swaggering 
gaHant, and let the welkin roare, and Erebus also. Looke 
not westward to the fall of Don Phosbus, but to the 
east — Eastward hoe 1 

'* Where radiant beames of lustie Sol appeare. 
And bright Eous makes the welken deare." . 
Wee are both gentlemen, and therefore should bee no 
ooxcombes: lets be no longer fooles to this flat-cap» 
Touchstone. Eastward^ bully, this sattin belly, and 
canvas-backt Touchstone: stifel' man, his fiather was a 
malt-man, and his mother sould ginger-bread in Christ 

Gould. What would you ha' me doe P 

Qlitiek. Why, do nothing, be like a gentleman, be idle ; 
the cursse of man is labour. Wipe thy bum with testones, 
and make duckes and drakes with shillings. What, East- 
^ ward hoe 1 Wilt thou crie, What ist ye lack P stand with 
a bare pate, and a dropping nose, under a wodden pent- 
house, and art a gentlemanP Wilt thou beare tankards, and 
maist beare armes P Be rul'd ; tume gallant. Eastward hoe ! 
ta, lyre, lyre, ro, who calls Jeronimo P Speake, here I am. 
Gods so I how like a sheepe thou lookes ; a my conscience^ 

8 EASTrrjRD HOE. [act r. 

some cowheard begot thee, thou Goulding of Ooulding- 
halL Ha, boy P 

Gould, Ooe, ye aie a prodigall coxecome ! I a cow- 
beards son, because I tume not a drunken whore-bnntiD^ 
rak&'hel like tliy selfe I 

\Offisr9 to drawy cmd Ooulding iri^ wp kU keeiet 

Quick. Bake-bell 1 rake-hell ! [and koldt iim. 

Chuld. Pish, in softe tearmes, ye are a cowardly braging 
boy. He ha you whipt. 

Quick, Whipt P — ^thats good, I faith I imtnisse me P 

Gould. No, thou wilt undoe thy seUe. Alas 1 1 behold 
thee with pitty, not with anger : thou common shot-dog, 
gull of aU companies; me thinkes I see thee abeadie 
walking in Moore Fieldes without a doake, with halfe a 
hat, without a band, a doublet with three buttons, with- 
out a girdle, a hose with one point, and no garter, with 
a cudgell imder thine arme, borrowing and begging three- 

Quick. Nay, slife ! take this and take all ; as I am a 
gentle-man borne, Ue be drunk, grow valiant, and beat 
thee. IJBxU. 

Gould, Goe, thou most madly vaine, whom nothing can 
recover but that which reclaimes atheists, and makes 
great persons some times religious — calamitie. As for my 
place and life, thus I have read : — 

" What ere some vainer youth may terme disgrace. 
The gaine of honest paines is never base ; 
From trades, from artes, from valour, honour springs, 
These three are founts of gentiy, yea, of kings." 

sc. I.] EJSTirjRB HOE. 9 

Enter. Giktred, Mildked, Bettkicb, and Poldavie a 
taylor ; Poldavie with a faire govme, Scotch war' 
thingal, and French-fal in his armes ; Gibtbed in a 
French head attire, and cittizens gowne ; Mildbed 
90wing, and Bettbige leading a monkey after her. 

Gir. For the passion of patience, looke if Sir Petiond 
appoach — that sweet, that fine, that delicate, that — for 
loves sake tell me if he come. O sister Mildred, though 
my father bee a low-capt tradsman, yet I must be a 
ladie ; and I praise God my mother must call me madam. 
Does he come ? Off with this gowne for shames sake, off 
with this gowne : let not my knight take me in the dttie- 
cut in any hand : tear't, pax ont (does he come ?) tear't 
of. "Thus whilst she sleepes, I sorrow for her sake,'* &c. 

MU. Lord, sister, with what an immodest impatiende 
and disgraceful scome do you put off your cittie tire; 
I am sorrie to thinke you imagine to right your selfe in 
wronging that which hath made both you and us. 

Gir. I tell you I cannot indure it, I must bee a lady : 
doe you weare your quoiffe with a London licket^ your 
stamen peticoate with two guardes, the buffin gowne with 
the tufftaffitie cape, and the velvet lace. I must be a 
lady, and I will be a lady ; I like some humors of the 
Citty dames well : to eate cherries onely at an angell a 
pound, good ; to die rich scarlet, black, prety ; to line a 
grogarom gowne cleane thorough with velvet, tollerable ; 
their pure linen, their smocks of 3 li. a smock, are to 
be borne withall. But your minsing niceries, taffata 
pipkins, durance petticotes, and silver bodkins — Gods 
my life, as I shall be a lady, I cannot indure it I Is he 
come yet P Lord, what a long knight tis 1 " And ever she 



[act I. 

cride, Shout home I " and yet I knewe one longer; "and 
ever she cride, Shout home," fa, la, ly, re, lo, la 1 

Mil. Well, sister, those that scome their nest, oft flie 
with a sicke wing. 

Oir. Boe-bell. 

iff Z. Where titles presume to thrust before fit meanes 
to second them, wealth and respect often growe sullen, 
and will not follow. For sure in this, I would for your 
sake I spake not truth : — " Where ambition of place goes 
before fitnes of birth, contempt and disgrace follow." I 
heard a scholler saie, that UHsses, when he counterfeited 
himselfe madde, yoakt cattes and foxes and dogges to- 
gither to draw his plowe, whiles hee followed and sowed 
salt ; but sure I judge them truelie madde, that yoake 
citizens and courtiers, tradesmen and souldiers, a gold- 
smiths daughter and a knight. Well, sister, pray God my 
father sow not salt too. 

Oir, Alas 1 poore Mildred, when I am a lady, He pray 
for the, yet Ifaith : nay, and lie vouchsafe to call thee 
sister Mil. stiU ; for though thou art not like to be a 
lady as I am, yet sure thou art a creature of Gfods making; 
and maist peradventure to be sav'd 9s soone as I (does 
he come ?). ^ "And ever and anon she doubled in her song." 
Now (ladies, my comfort). What prophane ape's hereP 
Taller, Poldavis, prethee fit it, fit it : is this a right Scot? 
Does it clip dose, and beare up round P 

Pol, Eine and stifly, Ifaith, twiU keepe your thighes 
so coole, and make your wast so small ; here was a fault 
in your body, but I have supplied the defect, with the 
effect of my Steele instrument, which, though it have but 
one eye, can see to rectifie the imperfection of the pro- 


Oir, Most ffidefiyng taller I I protest you toilers are 
most sanctified members, and make many crooked thing 
goe upright. How must 1 beare my hands? Light? 

Pol. I, now you are in the lady-fashion, you must 
doe all things light. Tread light, light. I, and fall so i 
that the court-amble. [She trips about the stage, 

, Gir, Has the court nere a trot ? 

FoL No, but a false gallop, ladie. 

Gir, " And if she will not go to bed " — 

Bet, The knight 's come, forsooth. 

Enter S^r Petronel, M, Touchstone, and Mist, 

Qir, Is my knight come? O the Lord, my band? 
Sister, doo my cheekes looke well ? Give me a litle boke a 
the eare, that I may seeme to blush ; now, now I So, there, 
there, there ! heere he is : my deerest delight ! Lord, 
Lord I and how dos my knight ? 

Touch, Fie ! with more modestie. 

Gir, Modesty ! why, I am no citizen now — modestie ! 
Am ^ not to be maried ? y' are best to keepe me modest, 
now I am to be a lady. 

Sir Pet, Boldnb is good fashion and courtlike. 

Gir, I, in a country lady I hope it is : as I shall be. 
And how chance ye came no sooner, knight ? 

Sir Pet, Faith, I was so intertain'd in the progresse 
with one Count Epemoum, a Welch kuight; we had a match 
at baloone too, with my Lord Whachum, for fowre 



[act I. 

Gir. At baboon ? Jesu ! you and I will play at baboon 
in tbe country, knight. 

Sir Fet. O, sweet lady ! tis a strong play with the 

Gir. With arme or legge, or any other member, if 
it be a court-sport. And when shal 's be married, my 

Sir Pet, I come now to consumate it ; and your father 
may call a poore knight, sonne in law. 

M, Touch. Sir, ye are come ; what is not mine to keepe 
I must not be sorry to forgoe. A 100 li. land her grand- 
mother left her, tis yours ; herselfe (as her mothers gift) 
is yours. But if you expect ought from^e, know, my 
hand and mine eyes open together; I doe not giveblindlye. 
Worke upon that now. 

Sir Pet, Sir, you mistrust not my meanes P I am a 

Touch, Sir, sir ; what I know not, you will give me 
leave to say I am ignorant of. 

Mist, Touch, Yes, that he is a knight ; I know where 
he had money to pay the gentlemen ushers and heralds 
their fees. I, that he is a knight, and so might you have 
beene too, if you had beene ought else then an asse, as 
well as some of your neighbours. And I thought you 
would not ha beene knighted (as I am an honest woman) 
I would ha dub'd you my self. I praise God I have wher 
withall. But as for your daughter 

Gir, I, motlier, I must be a lady to morrow ; and by 
your leave, mother (I speake it not without my duty, but 
onely in the right of my husband), I must take place of 
you, mother. 

Miat, Touch, That you shall, lady-daughter, and have 
a coach as well as I too. 

sc. 1.] EASTfFABJD HOE. 13 

Oir. Yes, mother. But by your leave, mother (I speake 
it not without my duty, but onely in my husbands right), 
my coach-horses must take the wall of your coach-horses. 

Touch. Come, come, the^ day growes low : tis supper 
time ; use my house ; the wedding solemnity is at my 
wifea cost ; thanke me for nothing but my willing blessing: 
for (I cannot faine) my hopes are faint. And, sir, respect 
my daughter ; she has refus'd for you, wealthy and honest 
matches, known good men, well monied, better traded, 
best reputed. 

Gir, Body a truth T chittizens, chittizens! Sweet 
knight, as soone as ever we are married, take me to thy 
mercy out of this miserable diitty ; presently carry mee 
out of the sent of New-castle coale, and the hearing of 
Boe-bell ; I beseech thee downe with me for God sake 1 

Touch. Y^ell, daughter, I have read that old wit sings, 
** The greatest rivers flow from little springs. 
Though thou art fuU, skome not thy meanes at first. 
He that's most drunke may soonest be a thirst." 
Wbrke upon that now. 

[AU hut Touchstone, Mildred, cmd Goulding depart. 
No, no ! yon'd stand my hopes — Mildred, Come hither, 
daughter. And how approve you your sisters fashion P 
how doe you phant'sie her choice ? what doest thou 

MU. I hope as a sister, well. 

Touch. Nay but, nay but, how doest thou like her 
bdiaviour and humour ? Speake freely. 

MU. I am loath to speake ilL ; and yet I am aony of 
this, I cannot speake weU. 

Touch. Wefl : very good, as I would wish : a modest 
answere. Goulding, come hither : hither. Goulding. How 



[act I. 


doest thou like the knigkfe; Sir Flash P dos he not looke 
bigP howe likst thon the elephant? he saies he has a 
eastle in tiie oountrie. 

Qould, Pray Heaven, the elephant cany not his castle 
on his bade. 

Touch, Fore Heaven, very well ; but seriously, how doest 
repute him? 

Qould. The best lean say of him is, I Imow him not. 

Touch, Ha, Goulding! I commend thee, I approve 
thee, and will make it appeare my affection is strong to 
thee. My wife has her humour, and I will ha' mine. 
Dost thou see my daughter h^re ? She is not faire, well- 
fiiTOured or so, indifferent, which modest measure of 
beauty shall not make it thy onely worke to watch her, 
not sufficient mischance, to suspect her. Thou art to- 
wardly, she is modest ; thou art provident, she is carefoll. 
Shee 's nowe mine ; give me thy hand, shee 's now thine. 
Worke upon that now. 

Ootdd. Sir, as your son, I honor you; and as your 
servant, obey you. 

Touch, Saist thou so ? Come hither, Mildred. Do you 
see yon'd fellow ? he is a gentleman (tho my prentise), and 
has somwhat to take too : a youth of good hope ; well 
friended, well parted. Are you mine? you are his. Worke 
(you) upon that now. 

MU, Sir, I am all yours : your body gave me life ; your 
care and love, hapinesse of life : let your vertue still direct 
it, for to your wisdom I wholly dispose my selfe. 

Touch. Saist thou so? Be ye two better acquainted, 
lip her, knave. So shut up shop. We must make 
holiday. [Exeunt Goulding and Mildred. 

80. 1.] EJ8TWAKD HOE. 15 

This match shall on, for I intend to prove 

Which thrives the best, the meane or lofty love. 

Whether fit wedlock vowed twixt like and like. 

Or prouder hopes, which daringly ore-strike 

Their place and meanes. Tis honest times expenoe, 

When seeming lightnesse beares a morrall sense. 

Worke upon that now. \Exi;t. 

fvi #vt Id^ 9W^ #n 




I i 

16 EASTWARD HOE. [act ii. 



Touchstone, Quicksilyeb, Gouldino, and Mildred, 
iitting on either side qfthe stall. 

Touch, l^^g^ICKSILVEE, Maister Francis Quick- 
silver, Maister Quicksilver i 

Enter Quioksilyeb. 

Quick. Here, sir (ump). 

Touch. So sir; nothing but flat Master Quicksilver 
(without any familiar addition) wil fetch you : will you 
tnisse my points, sir? 

Quick. I, forsooth (ump). 

Touch. How now, sir? the drunken hickop so soone 
this morning ? 

Quick. Tis but the colduesse of my stomake, forsooth. 

Touch. What? have you the cause naturall for it P /an 
» very learned drunkerd : I beleeve I shall misse Bome 
of my silver spoones with your learning. The nuptiall 
night wiU not moisten your throat sufficiently, but the 
morning likewise must raine her dewes into your glut- 
tonous wesand. 

Qmek. An't please you, sir, we did but drinke (ump) 
to the oomming off of the knightly bride groome. 

Touch. To the comming off an* him P 

Quick. I, forsooth we druncke to bis commixig on 

sc. I.] BASTJTARD HOE. 17 

(ump), when we went to bed ; and now we are up, we 
must drinke to his comming off: for thats the chiefe 
honour of a souldier, sir; and therfore we must drinke so 
much the more to it, forsooth (ump). 

Touch, A yeiy capitall reason. So that you goe to bed 
late, and rise early to commit drunkenesse ; you fulfill the 
scripture verie sufficient wickedly, forsooth. 

Q^ick. The knights men, forsooth, be still a ther knees 
at it (ump), and because tis for your credit, sir, I would be 
loth to flinch. 

Touch. I pray, sir, een to 'hem againe then ; ye are 
one of the seperated crew, one of my wives faction, and 
my young ladies, with whom, and with their great match, 
1 will have nothing to do. 

Quick, So, sir, now I will go keepe my (ump) credit 
with them, an't please you, sir. 

Touch, In any case, sir, lay one cup of sack more a' 
your cold stomake, I beseech you. 

Quick. Yes, forsooth. [Esnt Quicksilver. 

Touch. This is for my credit ; servants ever maintaine 
drunkennes in their maisters house for their maisters 
credite ; a good idle serving-mans reason. I thanke time 
the night is past ; I nere wakt to such cost ; I thinke wee 
have stowd more sorts of flesh in our bellies then ever 
Noahs arke received ; and for wine, why my house tumes 
giddie with it, and more noise in it then at a conduict. 
Aye me ! even beastes condemne our gluttonie ; well, 'tis 
our citties fault, which, because we commit sddome, we 
commit the more sinfully ; we lose no time in our sen- 
sualitie, but we make amends for it. that we would do 
so in vertue, and religious negligences ! But see here are 
III. 2 



18 EASTWARD HOE. [act ii. 

al the sober parcels my house can show ; I eavesdrop, heare 
what thoughts they utter this morning. 

Enter Goulding. 

< Gou. But is it possible that you, seeing your sister 

preferd to the bed of a knight, should contraine your affec- 
tions in the armes of a prentice P 

MU. I had rather make up the garment of my affec- 
tions in some of the same peece, then, like a foole, weare 
gownes of two coulours, or mixe sackcloth with sattin. 
i Gou, And doe the costly garments — the tittle and fame 

of a lady, the fashion, observation, and reverence proper 
to such preferment — no more enflame you then such 
* convenience as my poore meanes and industrie can offer 

I to your vertues ? 

' Mil, I have observ'd that the bridle given to those 

violent flatteries of fortune is seldome recovered; they 
beare one headlong in desire from one noveltie to another, 
and where those ranging appetites raigne, there t^ ever 
more passion then reason -. no stay, and so no happinesse. 
These hastie advancements are not naturall. Nature hath 
given us legges to go to our objects ; not wings to flie 
to them. 

Gou. Howe deare an object your are to my desires 
I cannot expresse 1 — whose fruition would my maisters 
absolute consent, and yours vouchsafe me, I should bee 
absolutely happie. And though it were a grace so farre 
beyond my merit, that I should blush with unworthinesse 
I to receive it, yet thus far both my love and my meanes 

shall assure your requital : you shal want nothing fit for 
your birth and education; what encrease of wealth 
and advancement the honest and orderly industrie and 

sc. I.] EA8T1FJRD HOE, 19 

skil of our trade will affoorde in any, I doubt not will be 
aspirde by me ; I will ever make your contentment the 
end of my endevours; I will love you above all; and 
onely your griefe shall 1}ee my misery, and your delight 
my felidtye. 

Touch. Worke upon that now. By my hopes, he woes 
honestly and orderly ; he shal be ai^chor of my hopes ! 
Looke, see the ill-yoakt monster, his fellow ! 

MUer QuiCKSiLYSB unlac^d^ a towell about his neckCy in 
his fiat cap, drunke. 

Quick, Eastward hoe ! Holla, ye pampered ladies of 
Asia ! 

Touch. Drunke now downe right, a my fidelity ! 

Quick. Am pum pull eo! Pullo; showle quot the 
calivers ! 

Gou. Fie, fellow Quicksilver, what a pickle are you in! 

Quick. Pickle? pickle in thy throat; zounds, pickle! 
Wa, ha, ho ! good morrow. Knight Petronel : morrow, Lady 
Gouldsmith ; come of, knight, with a counterbuff, for the 
honour of knighthood. 

Gou. Why, how now, sir? doe ye know where you 

Qiuick. Where I am? why, sblood ! you joulthead, where 
I am! 

Qou. Go too, go too, for shame, goe to bed and sleepe 
out this immodestie : thou sham'st both my maister and 
his house. 

Q;uick. Shame ? what shame ? I thought thou wouldst 
showe thy bringing up ; and thou wert a gentleman as 
I am, thou wouldst thinke it no shame to be drunke. 





[act II. 

Lend me some monye, save my credit ; I must dine with 
the serving-men and their wives — and their virives, sirha ! 
Gou. Eene who you will, He not lend thee threepence. 
Quick. Sfoote! lend me some monye; hast thou not 
'Hyren here ? 

Touch. Why how now, sirha ? what vain 's this, hah ? 
Q^kk. Who cries on murther ? Lady, was it you ? how 
does our maister? pray thee crie Eastward hoe P 

Touch. Sirha, sirha, ye' are past your hickup now; 
I see y'are drunke. 

Quick. Tis for your credit, maister. 
Touch. And here you keepe a whore in towne I 
Quick. Tis for your credit, maister. 
Touch. And what you are out in cashe, I know. 
Quick. So do I; my father's a gentleman. Worke upon 
that now ; Eastward hoe. 

Touch. Sir, Eastward hoe vidll make you go westward 
hoe ; I wiU no longer dishonest my house, nor endanger 
my stock with your licence. There, sir, there 's your 
indenture ; all your apparell (that I must know) is on 
your back, and from this time my doore is shut to you : 
from me be free ; but for other freedome, and the monyes 
you have wasted. Eastward hoe shall not serve you. 

Qui^ik. Am I free a my fetters ? Eente, flie vdth a duck 

in thy mouth, and now I tell thee, Touchstone 

Touch. Good sir 

Quick. "When this etemall substance of my soule" 

Touch. Well said, change your gold ends for your play 

Qmck. " Did live imprison'd in my wanton flesh " 

Touch. What then, sir? 

Quick. "I was a courtier in the Spanish court, and Don 
Andrea was my name " 

sc. I.] EASTWARD HOE, 21 

Touch, Good maister Don Andrea, wiU yon marche ? 

Quick. Sweete Tonchstone, will you lend me two 

Touch, Not a penny. 

Quick, Not a penny P I liave friends, and I liave ac- 
quaintance; I wil passe at thy shop posts, and th^ow 
rotten egges at thy signe. Worke upon that now. 

[Exit^ staggering. 

Touch, Now, sirha, you? heare youP you shail serve 
me no more neither — not an houre longer. 

Oou, What meane you, sir? 

Touch, I meane to give thee thy freedome, and with 
thy freedome my daughter, and with my daughter, a 
fathers love. And with all these such a portion as shal 
make Knight Petronel himselfe envie thee ! Y' are both 
agreed, are ye not P 

Amho, With all submission both of thanks and dutie. 

Touch. Well then, the great Power of Heaven blesse 
and confirme you. And Goulding, that my love to thee 
may not showe lesse then my wives love to my eldest 
daughter, thy marriage feast shall equall the knights 
and hers. 

Oou. Let mee beseech you, no sir; the superfluitie 
and colde meate left at their nuptials wiU with bountie 
furmsh ours. The grossest prodigalitie is superfluous cost' 
of the belly ; nor would I wi^h any invitement of states 
or friends, ondy your reverent presence and witnesse shal 
sufficiently grace and confirme us. 

Touch, Sonne to my owne bosome, take her and my 
blessing. The nice fondliag, my Lady Sir Beverence, that 
I must not now presume to call daughter, is so ravish't 
with desire to hansell her new coache, and see her knights 


22 BA8TWABD HOE, [act ti. 

Eastward Castle, that the next morning will sweat with 
ber buesie setting forth. Away will shee and her mother. 
And while their preparation is making, onr selves, with 
some two or three other friends, will consumate the 
humble matche we have in Gods name concluded. 
j Tis to my wish; for I have often read, 

Pit birth, fit age, keepes long a quiet bed. 

Tis to my wish ; for tradesmen (well tis knowne) 

Get with more ease then gentrie keepes his owne. 
i {Exit. 

Enter Securitib. 

Sec, My privie guest, lustie Quicksilver, has drunke too 
deepe of the bride-boule ; but, with a little sleepe, he- is 
\ much recovered ; and, I thinke, is making himselfe ready 

to be drunke in a gallanter likenes. My house is as 
'twere the cave where the yong out-lawe hoordes the 
stolne vailes of his occupation ; and here, when he will 
rcvell it in his prodigall similitude, he retires to his 
trunks, and (I may say softly) his punks : he dares trust 
me with the keeping of both ; for I am Securitie it sdfe ; 
my name is Securitie, the famous usurer. 

Emter Quicksilveb in his prentices cote and cap^ his 
gallant breeches and stockings, gartering himse^e, 
• %&Q\s-&mE following. 

Quick, Come, old Securitie, thou father of destruction! 
th' indented sheepskin is bum'd wherein I was wrapt ; and 
I am now loose, to get more children of perdition into my 
usurous bonds. Thou feed'st my lecherie, and I thy covet- 
ousness ; thou art pander to me for my wench, and I to 
« [J^ thee for thy coosenages. K. me, K. thee runnes through 

court and countrey. 


sc. I.] EASTWARD HOE. 23 

Sec. Well said, my subtle Quicksilver ! Those K's ope 
the dores to all this worlds felicity : the dullest forehead 
sees it. Let not Master Courtier think he caries al the 
knavery on his shoulders : I have known poore Hob, in 
the country, that, has wome hob-nailes on 's shoes, have as 
much villany in 's head as he that weares gold bottons in 's 

Quick. Why, man, tis the London highway to thrift ; if 
vertue be nsde, tis but a scape to the nette of villanie. 
They that use it simplie, thrive simplie, I warrant. 
'' Waight and fashion makes goldsmiths cockoldes." 

Enter Synd. with Quicksilvers doublet^ cloake, rapier, 
and dagger. 

Syn. Here, sir, put of the other halfe of your prentiship. 

Qdclc. Well said, sweet Synd ! Bring forth mybraverie. 
Now let my truncks shoote forth their silkes conceald. 
I now am free> and now will justifie 
My trunkes and punkes. Avant, duU flat cap, then ! 
Via^ the curtaine that shadowed BorMa I 
There lie, thou huske of my envassaird state. 
I, Sampson, now have burst the Philistins bands, 
And in thy lappe, my lovely Dalida, 
He lie, and snore ont my enfranchisde state. 
When Sampson was a tall yong man. 
His power and strength increased than; 
He sold no more, nor cup, nor can ; 
But did them all despise. 
Old Touchstone now writ to thy fnenids 
For one to sell thy base gold ends ; 
Quicksilver now no more attends 
Thee, Touchstone. 



[act II. 

•I I 


But, dad, hast thou seene my running gelding drest to 

Sec. That I have, Eranck. the ostler a'th Cocke 
drest him for a breakfast. 

Quick, What! did he eate him? 

Sec. Ne, but he eate his breakfast for dressing him ; 
and so drest him for breakfast. 

Q^kk. O, wittie age I where age is yong in witte. 
And all youths words have gray beardes full of it ! 

Sec. But ahlas, Erackel how will all this bee maintain'd 
nowe ? Your place maintain'd it before. 

Quick. Why, and I maintaind my place ! He to the 
court : another manner of place for maintainance, I hope, 
then the silly Citty I I heard my father say, I heard my 
mother sing a nold song and a true: Thou art a she 
foole, and knowst not what belongs to our tnalemsdome. I 
shall be a merchant, forsooth : trust my estate in a wooden, 
trough as he does ! What are these ships but tennis balls 
for the wind to play withal? tost from one wave to ano- 
ther; now under-line, now over the house; sometimes 
brick-wal'd against a rocke^ so that the gutts flie out 
againe ; sometimes strooke under the wide hazzard, and 
farewell, M. Merchant ! 

Syn. Well, Franck, wel : the seas, you say, are uncer- 
taine : but he that sailes in your court seas shall finde 
'hem ten times fuller of hazzard ; wherein to see what is to 
be seene is torment more then a free spirit can indure ; 
but when you come to suffer, how many injuries swallow 
you I What care and devotion must you use to humour 
ion imperious lord, proportion your looks to his looks ; 
smiles to his smiles ; fit your sailes to the winde of his 
breath ! 

sc. I.] BASTWARI) HOE. 25 

Qmck, Tush ! hee 's no journey-man in his crark that 
cannot do that. 

Syn. But hee 's worse then a prentise that does it ; not 
onely humoring the lord, but every trencher-bearer, every 
groome, that by indulgence and intelligence crept into his 
favour, and by pandarisme into his chamber ; he rules the 
roste; and when my honourable lord saies it shall be 
thus, my worshipful! rascall (the grome of his dose stoole) 
sales it shal not be thus, claps the doore after him, and 
who dares enter ? A prentise, quoth you ? Tis but to 
leame to live ; and does that disgrace a man ? Hee that 
rises hardly stands firmly ; but he that rises with ease, 
alas! falles as easily. 

Q^ick, A pox on you! who taught you this moralitie ? 

Sec. Tis long of this wittie age, M. Francis. But, 
indeed. Mist. Syndefie, all trades cdmplaine of inconve- 
nience; and therefore tis best to have none. The 
merchant, hee complaines and saies, Trafficke is subject to 
much incertaintie and losse : let 'hem keepe their goods 
on diie land, with a vengeance, and not expose other mens 
substances to the mercie of the windes, under protection of 
a wodden wall (as M. Francis saies) ; and all for greedie 
desire to enrich themselves with unconscionable gaine, two 
for one, or so; where I, and such other honest men as live 
by lending monie, are content with moderate profit; 
thirtie or fortie i'th'hundred, so we may have it with quiet- 
jiess, and out of perill of winde and weather, rather then 
runne those dangerous courses of trading, as they doe. 

Quick. I, dad, thdu maist well be called Security, for thou 
takest the safest course. 

Sec. Faith, the quieter, and the more contented, and, 
out of doubt, the more godly; for merchants, in their 

26 EASTWARD HOE. [act ii. 

courses, are never pleas'd, but ever repining against 
Heaven : one prayes for a westerlie wind, to carry hia ship 
forth ; another for an easterly, to bring his ship home, and 
at every shaking of a leafe he falles into an agony, to 
thinke what danger his shippe is in one such a coast, and 
so foorth. The farmer he is ever at oddes with the 
weather : sometimes the clouds have beene too barren ; 
sometimes the heavens forget themselves ; their harvests 
answere not their hopes ; sometimes the season falls out 
too fruitful!, come will beare no price, and so foorth. Th* 
artificer he 's all for a stirring world : if this trade be too 
full, and &11 short of his expectation, then falles he out of 
joynt. Where we that trade nothing but money are free 
from all this ; we are pleased with all weathers, let it raine 
or hold up, be calme or windy ; let the season be whatso- 
ever, let trade go how it will, we take all in good part, een 
what please the heavens to send us, so the sun stand not 
stil, and the moone keepe her usuall retumes, and make 
up daies, moneths, and yeeres. 

Quick, And you have good securitie. 

Sec. I, mary, Francke, that 's the spedall point. 

Quick, And yet, forsooth, we must have trades to live 
withal; for we cannot stand without legges, nor flye 
without wings, and a number of such skurvie phrases. 
No, I say still, he that has wit, let him live by his wit ; he 
that has none, let him be a trades-man. 

Sec, Witty Maister Frauds ! tis pitty any trade should 
dull jbhat quick braine of yours. Doe but bring Elnight 
Petronel into my parchment toyles oftce, and you shall 
never neede to toyle in any trade, a'my credit. You know 
his wives land. 

sc. 1.] EASTWARD HOE. 27 

Quick, Even to a foote, sir ; I have beene ofteo there ; a 
pretie fine seate^ good land, all intire witliin it selfe. 

Sec, Well wooded. 

Quick, Two hundred pounds worth of wood ready to fell, 
and a fine sweet house; that stands just in the midst an't, 
like a pricke in the middest of a circle ; would I were your 
fanner, for a hundred pound a yeare ! 

Sec, Excellent, M. Francis 1 how I do long to doe thee 
good 1 How I do hunger and thirst to have the honour 
to enrich thee ! I, even to die, that thou mightest inherit 
my living! even hunger and thirst! for a my religion, 
M. Francis ; and so tell Knight Pet. I do it to do him a 

Q^ick, Mary, dad! his horses are now comming up, to 
beare downe his lady ; wilt thou lend him thy stable to set 
'hem in ? 

Sec. Faith, M. Francis, I would be loth to lend my 
stable out of dores ; in a greater matter I wiQ pleasure 
him, but not in this. 

Quick, A pox of your hunger and thirst 1 Well, dad, let 
him have money ; all he could any way get is bestowed on 
a ship, nowe bound for Yirginia; the frame of which 
voyage is so closely convaide that his new lady nor any of 
her firiendes know it. Notwithstanding, as soone as his 
ladies hand is gotten to the sale of her inheritance, and 
you have fumisht him with money, he wil instantly hoyst 
saile and away. 

Sec, Now, a franck gale of wind go with him, Maister 
Franck! we have too fewe such knight adventurers; who 
would not sell away competent certenties to purchase (with 
any danger) excellent uncertentiesP your true knight ven- 



[act It 

t V 


turer ever do^ it. Let hia wife aeale to-da^r, he slmll 
have his money to-day. 

Quick, To-morrow she shall , dad, before she goes into 
the eountiy ; to worke her to which action with the more 
engines, I pnrpose presently to preferre my aweete Sinae 
here, to the place of her gentlewoiiiRn ; whom you (for 
the more credit] shall present as your friends daughter, 
a gentlewoman of the ooiintiiej new come up with a will 
for a while to learne fashions, forsooth, and be toward 
some lady; and she shall btizE piretty devises into her 
ladies eare ; feeding her humours so serriceablie (aa the 
manner of sueh as she is you know). 

See, True, good Maistcr Francis. 

Quick. That she shall keepe her port open to any thing 
shee commends to her ! 

Sec. A' my religion, a most fashionable project ; as 
good shee spoile the kdy» as the lady spoile her ; for tis 
three to one of one £$idc. Sweete Mistrisse Sinne, how are 
you bound to Maister Praneia [ I doe not doubt to see you 
shortly wedde one of the headmen of our cittie. 

Sm. But, sweete Fraucke, when shal my father Security 
present me ? 

Quick. With al festination ; I have broken the ice to it 
already ; and will presently to the knights house, whether, 
my good oM dad, let mc pray thee with all fonnalitie to 
man her. 

Sec, Command me, Maister Francis, I doe hunger and 
thirst to do thee service. Come, sweete Mistiesse Sinne, 
take leave of my Wynifnd, and we wil instantly naeete 
Francke, ^laister Fiaucis, at youi ladies. 

sc. I.] EASTWARD HOE. 29 

Enter Winnifbide above. 

Win. Where is my Cu, there — Cu ? 

Sec. I, Winnie. 

Win. Wilt thou come in, sweete Cu ? 

Sec. I Winnie, presently. [Exeunt. 

Quick. I, Wynny, quod he ; thats al he can doe, poore 
man ; he may well cut off her name at Wynny ! O tis 
an egregious pandare ! what wil not an usurous knave be, 
so hee may bee rich ! O 'tis a notable Jewes trump ! 
I hope to live to see dogs meate made of the old usurers 
flesh, dice of his bones, and indentures of his skin ; and 
yet his shin his too thicke to make parchment ; 'twould 
make good boots for a peeter man to catch salmon in. 
Tour onely smooth skin to make fine vellam, is your 
puritanes skinne; they be the smoothest and slickest 
knaves in a countrie. 

Enter Sir P£TB0KELL in bootea, with ryding warn. 

Pet. He out of his wicked towne as fast as my horse 
can trot ! Here 's now no good action for a man to spend 
his time in. Taverns grow dead; ordinaries are blown 
up ; playes are at a stand ; howses of hospitality at a fall ; 
not a feather waving, not a spur gingling any where. Be 
away instantly. 

Qiuick. Y'ad best take some crowns in your purse, 
blight, or else your Eastward Castle will smoake but 

Pet. O Franck, my castle ? Alas ! al the castles I have 
are built with ayre, thou know'st. 

Quick. I know it, knight, and therefore wonder whether 
your lady is going. 



[act ri. 




Tei. Faidi to &eeke her fortunep Ithinke. I said I had 
a i^atle and land eaatward, and eastward she wil with- 
out contradiction; her coach and the coach of the snnne 
must meete ful bnlt. And the sunne heing out sbined 
with her ladyahipa glorie, ahe feares he goes westward to 
hange himselfe, 

Qurick. And I feare, when her enchanted castle becomes 
iETiaiblej her ladyship will retmme and follow his example. 

jPii. O thai she would have the grace I for I shall 
never bee able to patifie her, when ahe sees her selfe 
deceived so. 

Quick, As easily aa can be. Tel her she niiatooke 
your directions, and that shortly, your selfe will downe 
with her to approove it ; and then, doath but her cro up- 
per in a newe gowne, and you may drive her any way yoa 
list \ for these women, sir, are like Essex: calves^ you must 
wriggle 'hem on by the tayle still, or they mO never 
drive orderly. 

Fet. But alas I aweete Fronclti thou kno*est my babilitie 
win not furnish her broud with those costly humors. 

Q^iick. Cast that cost on me, sir, I have spoken to 
my old pander, Securitie, for money or eommoditie; an J 
commoditie (if you will) I know he will procure you. 

FeL Commoditie I Alas ! what commoditie ? 

^kk. Why, sir ? what say you to figges and ray sons I 

Fet. A plague of figgcs and ray sons, and all auch frailc 
commodities 1 we shall make nothing of 'hem. 

Quick. Why then, sir, what say you to fortie pound in 
rosted beefe ? 

FeL Out upon 't, I have lessc stomacke to that then 
to the iigges and ray sons ; lie out of towne, thougli 1 
sojoume with a friend of mine, for staye here I must not ; 

sc. I.] EA8TJFART) HOE. 31 

my creditors have laide to arrest mee, and I have no 
friend under heaven but my sword to baile me. 

Q^ick, Grods me ! knight, put 'hem in sufficient sureties, 
rather then let your sworde bayle you ! Let 'hem take their 
choice, eyther the Kings Benche or the Fleete, or which 
of the two Counters they like best, for by the Lord I like 
none of 'hem. 

Pet. Well, Francke, there is no jesting with my earnest 
necessity; thou know'st, if I make not present money to 
further my voyage begun, all 's lost, and aU I have laid 
out about it. 

Qntkh. Why, then, sir, in earnest, if you can get your 
wife lady to set her hand to the sale of her inheritance, 
the bloud-hound Secuijtie will smel out ready money for 
you instantly. 

FeL There spake an angel : to bring her too which 
conformity, I must faine my selfe extreamly amorous ; and 
aUeadging urgent excuses for my stay behind, part with 
her as passionately as she would from her foysting hound. 

QuicJc, You have the sowe by the right eare, sir. I 
warrant there was never childe longd more to ride a cock- 
horse, or weare his new coate, then she longs to ride in 
her new coach. She would long for every thing when 
shee was a maide, and now she will runne mad for 'hem. 
I lay my life, she wil have every yeare foure children ; and 
what charge and change of humour you must endure while 
she is with childe; and how shee will tie you to your 
tackling till she be with child, a dogge would not endure. 
Nay, there is no tumespit dog bound to his wheele more 
servily then you shal be to her wheele ; for, as that dogge 
can never climbe the toppe of his wheele but when the 
toppe comes under him, so shall you never climbe the t(^ 
of her contentment but when she is under you. 



[act ir. 


1^ . 

Pet. Slif^ht, how thou terrifiest me ! 

Quick. Nay, harke you, sir ? what nurses, what mid- 
wives, what fool e 3, what phibitions, what cunning women 
must bee sought for (fearing sometimes shee in bewitcht, 
sometimes in a consumption), to tell her tales, to talke 
bawdie to her, to make her laughe, to give her glisters, to 
let her bloiid under the tongue, and betwixt the toes; 
how she will revile and kisse you ; spitte in your face, and 
lick it off againe \ how she will vaunt you are her creature ; 
shee made you of nothing; how shee could have had 
thousand marke joynturea : she could have bin made a 
lady by a Scotch knight, and never ha* married Iiim ; she 
could have had poynados in her bed every morning ; how 
shee set you up, and how shee will pull you downe : youle 
never be able to stand of your legges to indure it. 

Pet, Out of my fortune, what a death is my life bound 
face to face too! The best is, a larp:e time- fitted con- 
acience is bound to nothing : marriage is but a forme in 
the schoole of polieie, to which schollers sit fastned onely 
with painted chaines. Old Securities yong wife is nere 
the further of with me. 

Qnkk, Thereby lyes a tale, sir. The old usurer will be 
here instantly, with my pun eke Syudefie, whom you know 
your ladie has promist mee to entertaine for her gentle- 
woman ; and hee (with a purpose to fee>de on you) invites 
you most solemnely by me to supper. 

Pet. It falls out excellently fitly : I see desire of gaine 
makes jealousie venturous. 

Enter Gtrtreb. 

See, Francke, here comes my lady. Lord I how she viewes 
thee 1 she knowes thee not, I thinke, in this braverie. 

sc. I.] EA8TWJRD HOE. 33 

Gir, How now ? who be you, I pray ? 

Quick, One Master Francis Quicksilver, an't please 
your ladiship. 

Oir. Gods I my dignitie 1 as I am a lady, .if lie did not 
make me blush so that mine eyes stood a water. Would 
I were unmarried againe ! 

Enter Securitie cmd Sindepie. 

Wher 's my woman, I pray ? 

Quick. See, madam, shee now comes to attend you. 

Sec, God save my honourable knight and his worshipful 

Gir. T are very welcome ; you must not put on your 
hat yet. 

Sec. No, madam; till I know your ladyships ftirther 
pleasure, I will not presume. 

Gir. And is this a gentlemans daughter new come out 
of the countrey ? 

Sec. Shee is, madam ; and one that her father hath a 
spedall care to bestowe in some honourable ladies service, 
to put her out of her honest humours forsooth ; for shee 
had a great desire to be a nun, an 't please you. 

Gir. A nun ? what nun ? a nun substantive ? or a nun 
adjective ? 

Sec. A nun substantive, madam, I hope, if a nun be a 
noune. But I meane, ladie, a vowd maide of that order. 

Gir. He teach her to bee a maide of the order, I war- 
rant you ; and can you doe any worke belongs to a ladyes 
chamber ? 

8yn. What I cannot doe, madam, I would be glad to 

rii. 3 



[act II. 

Gir. Well said ; holde up, then ; holde up your head, 
I say ; come hither a little. 

Syn, I thanke your ladiship. 

Gir, And harke you, good man, you may put on your 
hatt now ; I do not looke oh you. I must have you of my 
fashion now ; not of my knights, maide. 

Syn. No, forsooth, madam, of yours. 

Gir. And draw all my servants in my bowe, and keepe 
my counseU, and tell me tales, and put me riddles, and 
reade on a booke sometimes when I am busie, and laugh 
at country gentlewomen, and command anything in the 
house for my reteiners ; and care not what you spend, for 
it is all mine ; and in any case be stil a maid, whatsoever 
you do, or whatsoever any man can doe unto you. 

Sec. I warrant your ladiship for that. 

Gir, Very well ; you shall ride in my coach with mee 
into the countrye to-morrow morning. Come, knight, I 
pray thee lets make a short supper, and to bed presently. 

Sec. Nay, good madam, this night I have a short supper 
at home waites on his worships acceptation. 

Gir. By my faith, but he shal not go, sir; I shalswone 
and he sup from me. 

Pet. Pray thee, forbeare ; shal he loose his provision ? 

Gir. I, by lady, sir, rather then I loose my longing. 
Come in, I say ; as I am a lady, you shal not goe. 

Quick. I told him what a burre he had gotten. 

Sec. If you will not suppe from your knight, madam, 
let mee entreat your ladiship to suppe at my house with 

Gir, No, by my faith, sir ; then we cannot be a bed 
soone enough after supper. 

Fet What a medicine is this ? Well, Maister Security, 

sc. I.] EJaTJTABD HOR 36 

you are new married as well as I; I hope you are bound 
as well. We must honour our yong wives, you know. 

Quick, In policie, dad, till to-morrow she has seald. 

Sec. I hope in the morning ; yet your knight-hood will 
breake fast with me? 

Pet. As earely as you will, sir. 

Sec, I thank your good worship; I do hunger and 
thirst to do you good, sir. 

Gir, Come, sweet knight, come ; I do hunger and thirst 
to be a bed with thee. [Exeunt. 

36 EASTWARD HOE. [act hi. 


Enter Petkonel, Quicksilver, Security, Bramble, 


Pet 2S Tg| HANKES for your feast-like breakefast, 

1^ ^» good Maister Security ; I am some (by 

\ ^ ^ H B reason of my instant haste to so long a 

1 1 Yoiage as Virginia) I am without meanes 

by any kind amends to shew how affectionately I take 

your kindnes, and to confirme by some worthy ceremony a 

perpetuall league of friendship betwixt us. 

Sec, Excellent knight 1 let this be a token betwixt us 
of inviolable friendship. I am new married to this faire 
gentlewoman, you know ; and by my hope to make her 
fi-uitfull, though I bee something in yeares, I vowe faith- 
fully unto you, to make you godfather, though in your 
absence, to the first child I am blest withaU ; and hence- 
forth call me gossip, I beseech you, if you please to accept 

Pet. In the highest degree of gratitude, my most worthy 
gossip; for confirmation of which friendly title, let me 
entreate my faire gossip, your wife here, to accept this 
diamond, and keepe it as my gift to her first child, where- 
soever my fortune, in event of my voyage, shall bestowe 

gc. 1.3 EASTWARD HOE, 37 

Sec, How now, my coye wedlocke i make you strange 
of so noble a favour? Take it, I charge you, with all 
affection, and, by way of taking your leave, present boldly 
your lips to our honourable gossip. 

Quick. How ventrous he is to him, and how jealous to 
others ! 

Pet, Long may this kind touch of our Kps print in our 
hearts all the formes of affection. And now, my good 
gossip, if the writings be ready to which my wife should 
scale, let them bee brought this morning before she takes 
coach into the countrie, and my kindnesse shall worke her 
to dispatch it. 

Sec. The writings are ready, sir. My learned counsell 
here, Maister Bramble the lawyer, hath perusde them; 
and within this houre I will bring the scrivenour with 
them to your worshippfuU lady. 

Fet. Good Maister Bramble, I will here take my leave 
of you then. God send you fortunate pleas, sir, and con- 
tentious clients ! 

Bram, And you foreright winds, sir, and a fortunate 
voyage. [Exit. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mes, Sir Petronel, here are three or fowre gentlemen 
desire to speake with you. 

Pet. What are they? 

Quick, They are your followers in this voyage, knight, 
Captaine Seagul and his associates ; I met them this morn- 
ing, and told them you would be here. 

Pet. Let them enter, I pray you; T know they long to 
be gone, for theif stay is dangerous. 

I . 



[act III. 

Enter Seagul, Scafethbift, and Spendall. 

Sea. God saye my honourable ooUonell 1 

Fet. Welcome, good Captaine Seagul, and worthy gen- 
tlemen ; if you will meete my friend Eranck here» and mee, 
at the Blewe Anchor Taveme by Billinsgate this evening, 
wee will there drinke to our happy voyage, be meriy, and 
take boate to our ship with all expedition. 

Spend, Deferre it no longer, I beseech you, sir ; but as 
your voyage is hitherto carryed closely, and in another 
knights name, so for your owne safetie and ours, let it be 
continued : our meeting and speedie purpose of departing 
knowne to as few as it is possible, least your ship and 
goods be attached. 

Quick. Well advisd, captaine ; our collonell shall have 
money this morning to dispatch all our departures ; bring 
tihose gentlemen at night to the place appointed, and, with 
our skinnes full of vintage, weele take occasion by the 
vantage, and away. 

Spend. We will not faile but be there, sir. 

Pet Good morrow, good captaine, and my worthy 
associats. Health and all soveraigntie to my beautifoll 
goship ; for you, sir, we shall see you presenUy with the 

Sec. With writings and crovmes to my honourable 
goship. I doe hunger and thirst to do you good, sir. 


Enter a Cocuihman in hasUy in' s frock, feeding. 
Coach. Heer 'a a stirre when dttizens ride out of towne 

gw. II.] EASTfFARD HOE, 39 

indeed, as if all the house were a fire. Slight 1 they will 
not give a man leave to eat 's breakfast afore he rises. 

Enter Hamlet, a Foote-maUy in haste. 

Ham. What, coachman — ^my ladyes coach 1 for shame ! 
her ladiship's readie to come downe. 

Enter Potkinnb, a tanker d-hearer. 

Pot. Sfoote 1 Hamlet, are you madde ? Whether run 
you nowe ? you should brushe up my olde mistresse ? 

Enter Sindefye. 

8yn. What, Potkinne P — you must put off your tankerd 
and put on your blew coat, and waite upon Mistris Touch- 
stone into the countrie. [Exit. 

Fot. I will, forsooth, presently. [Exit. 

Enter Mistresse Fond and Mistresse Gazeb. 

Fond. Come, sweete Mistresse Gazer, lets watch here, 
and see my Lady Flashe take coach. 

Gaz. A my word here 's a most fine place to stand in ; 
did you see the new ship lancht last day, Mistresse Fond ? 

Fond. O Godl and we cittizens should loose such a 
sight 1 

Gaz. I warrant here will be double as many people to 
see her take coach as there were to see it take water. 

Fond. O shee 'js married to a most fine castle ith' coun- 
trie, they say. 

Gaz. But there are no gyants in the castle, are there P 

Fond. O no: they say her knight kild 'hem all, and 
therefore hee was knighted. 

Gaz. Would to God her ladiahip would come away ! 




[act III. 


Enter Gtrtred, Mktreue Touchstone, Stndbfis, 
Hamlet, Potkinne. 

Fond. Shee comes, she comes, she comes 1 

Qaz. Fond, Fray Heaven blesse your ladiship ! 

Qir. Thanke you, good people. My coach, for the lore 
of Heaven, my coach I In good truth I shall swoune else. 

Ham. Coach, coach, my ladyes coach 1 [ExU. 

Gir. As I am a lady, I think I am with child already, 
I long for a coach so. May one be with child afore they 
are maried, mother P 

Mist. T. I, by 'r lady, madam ; a little thing does that ; 
I have scene a little prick, no bigger then a pins head, 
swel bigger and bigger, till it has come to an ancome; 
and eene so tis in these cases. 

Enter Hamlet. 

Ham. Your coach is comming, madam. 

Gir. That 'swell said. Now, Heaven I me thinks I am 
eene up to the knees in preferment. 
" But a little higher, but a little higher, but a little higher. 
There, there, there lyes Cupids fire !" 

Mist. T. But must this yong man, an't please you, 
madam, run by your coach all the way a foote ? 

Qir. I, by my faith, I warrant him ; hee gives no other 
milke, as I have an other servant does. 

Mist. T. Ahlas 1 tis eene pittie, mee thinks ; for Gods 
sake, madam, buy him but a hobbie-hbrse ; let the poore 
youth have something betwixt his legges to ease 'hem. 
Alas I we must doe as we would be done too. 

Gir. Goe too, hold your peace, dame ; you talke like an 
olde foole, I tell you I 


Enter Peteonell and Quicksilver. 

Pet, Wilt thou be gone, sweete Honny-suckle, before I 
can goe with thee ? 

Qir. I pray thee, sweete knight, let me ; I doe so long 
to dresse up thy castle afore thou com'st. But I marie 
how my modest sister occupies her selfe this morning, that 
shee can not waite one me to my coach, as well as her 

Quick, Mary, madam, shee 's married by this time to 
Prentise Goulding. Your father, and some one more, 
stole to church with 'hem in all the haste, that the colde 
meate left at your wedding might serve to furnish their 
nuptiall table. 

Gir. There 's no base fellowe, my father, now ; but hee 's 
eene fit to father such a daughter: he must call me 
daughter no more now : but madam, and please you, 
madam ; and please your worship, madam, indeed. Out 
upon him I marry his daughter to a base prentise 1 

Mist, T, What should one doe P Is there no lawe for 
one that marries a womans daughter against her will? 
How shall we punish him, madam ? 

Gyr. As I am a ladie, an't would snowe, weele so 
peble 'hem with snowe-bals as they c6me from church ; 
but, sirra, Pranck Quicksilver. 

Quick, I, madam, 

Gir, Dost remember since thou and I clapt what d'ye 
calts in the garret P 

Quick. I know not what you meane, madam. 

Gyr. " His head as white as milke, all flaxen was his 



[act III. 

But now he is dead, and laid in his bed. 
And neyer will come againe." 
God be at your labour ! 

Enter Touch., Goulding, Mild., with roiemary. 

Pet, Was there ever such a lady P 
^ Q^ick. See, madam, the bridegrome ! 

Oyr. Gods my precious I God giye you joy, mistresse ! 
What lake youP Now out upon thee, baggage! My 
sister married in a taffeta hat 1 Marie, hang yon ! 
Westward with a wanion te'yee I Naie, I have done we 
ye, minion, then y' faith ; never looke to have my coun- 
tenance any more, nor any thing I can doe for thee. 
Thou ride in my coach, or come downe to my castle ! fie 
upon thee ! I charge thee in my ladiships name, cal me 
sister no more. 

Touch, An 't please your worship, this is not your sister: 
this is* my daughter, and she cals me father, and so does 
not your ladiship, an 't please your worship, madam. 

Mist, T. No, nor she must not call thee father by 
heraldrie, because thou mak'st thy prentise thy sonne as 
wel as shee. Ah I thou misprovde prentise, dar'st tbou 
presume to marry a ladies sister P 

Ooul, It pleas'd my master, forsooth, to embolden me 
with his favour ; and though I confesse my selfe far un- 
worthy so worthy a wife (being in part her servant, as I 
am your prentise), yet (since I may say it without boasting) 
I am borne a gentleman, and by the trade I have learned 
of my maister (which I trust taints not my blood), able, 
with mine owne industrie and portion, to maintaine your 
daughter. My hope is. Heaven will so blesse our humble 
beginning, that in the end I shal be no disgrace to the 


graoe with whicll my master liath bound me his doable 

Touch. Master mee no more, sonne, if thou think' st me 
worthy to be thy father. 

Gir, Sun ! Now, good Lord, how he shines I and you 
marke him, hee's a gentleman ! 

GouL I, indeede, madam, a gentleman borne. 
Pet. Never stand a' your gentrye, M. Bridgegrome ; if 
your legges be no better than your armes, you 'le be able 
to stand upright on neither shortly. 

Toiich. An't please your good worshippe, sir, there are 
two sorts of gentlemen. 
Pet. What mean you, sir ? 

Touch. Bold to put off my hat to your worshippe • 

Pet. Nay, pray forbeare, sir, and then foorth with your 
two sorts of gentlemen. 

Touch. K your worship wil have it so, I say there are 
two sorts of gentlemen. Tbere is a gentleman artificial^ 
and a gentleman naturall. Now, though your worship be 
a gentleman naturall : worke upon that now. 

Quick. Wei said, olde Touch., I am proude to heare 
thee enter a set speech, yfaith ; forth, I beseech thee. 

Touch. Crie your mercie, sir, your worship's a gentle- 
man I do not know. If you be one of my acquaintance, 
y 'are verie much disguisde, sir. 

Quick. Go too, old Quipper ; forth with thy speech, I 

Touch. What, sir, my speeches were ever in vaine to 
your gratious worship; and therefore, till I speake to 
you gallantry indeed, I will save my breath for my broth 
anon. Come, my poore sonne and daughter, let us hide 
our selves in our poore humilitie, and live safe. Ambi- 




[act III. 


tion consumes it »elfe with tbe very show, Worke upon 
that now, 

G^r. Let laim goe, kt him goe, for Gods aata! let him 
make his prentise his sonne, for Gods sake I give away 
his daughter, for Gods sjike 1 and when they come a beg- 
ging to us for Gods sake, let *s laugh at their good hus- 
bandry for Gods sake 1 Farewell, Sweete knight, pray 
thee make haste after, 

Fet. What shall I say?^ — ^1 would not have thee goe. 

i^ick. No, now, 1 must depart. " Parting though 
it absence move-" 
This dittie, knight, doe I see in thy lookes in capitall 

*' What a griefe tis to depart, and leave the flower that 

has my heart ? 
My sweete lady, and aiacke for woe, why should we part so." 
Tell truth, knight, and shame all dissembUng lovers j does 
not your paine lye on that side ? 

Pet. If it doe, canst tell me how I may cure it F 

Quick. Excellent easily, Pevide your selfe in two 
halfes, just by the girdlestead ; send one halfe with yoiu 
ladyj and keepe the tother your selfe ; or else do as aU 
true lovers doe — part with your heart, and leave your 
body behind* 1 have seen 't done a hundred times : tis as 
easie a matter for a lover to part without a lieart from his 
sweet-heartj and he nere the worse, as for a mouse to get 
from a trap and leave her taile behind him, ■ See, here 
comes the writings. 

Enter Security with a Scrivener. 

See. Good morrow to my worship fnll lady. I present 
your ladyship with this writing, to which if you please to 

sc. II.] EASTWARD HOE. 45 

set your hand with your knights, a velvet gowne shall 
attend your journey a' my credit. 

Gir. What writing is it, knight ? 

Pet The sale (sweete-heart) of the poore tenement I 
told thee off, onely to make a little money. to send thee 
dowhe furniture for my castle, to which my hand shall- 
lead thee. 

Crir, Very well. Now give me your pen, I pray. 

Quick. It goes downe without chewing, y'faith. 

Scri, Your worships deliver this as your deede ? 

Amho. We doe. 

Gir. So now, knight, farwell till I see thee. 

Pet. All farewell to my sweet-heart ! 

Mist. T. Grod-boy, sonne knight. 

Pet, Earewell, my good mother. 

Gir. Farewell, Franck ; I would faine take thee downe 
if I could. 

Quick, I thanke your good ladiship ; farewell, Mistress 
Sindefy. [Exeunt. 

Pet. tedious voyage, wherefore there is no ende ! 
W^hat wiU they thinke of me ? 

Quick. Thinke what they list. They long'd for a 
vagarie into the country, and now they are fitted. So a 
woman marry to ride in a coach, she cares not if she ride 
to her mine. Tis the great end of many of their marriages. 
This is not first time a lady has ridde a false journey in 
her coach, I hope. 

Pet, Nay, tis no matter, I care little what they thinke ; 
hee that waies mens thoughts has his hands ful of nothing. 
A man, in the course of this world, should be like a surgions 
instrument — worke in the wounds of others, and feele 
nothing himselfe. The sharper and subtler, the better. 


; i 

f 46 EASTWARD EOE. [act hi. 

' Quick. As it fallfl out now, knight, you shall not neede 

to deyise excuses, or endure her out-cries, when she re- 

', tumes : we shal now begone before, where they cannot 

reach us. 
J PeL Well, my kind compere, you have now th* assor- 

IJ anoe wee both can make you ; let me now intreat you, the 

i ; money we agreed on may be brought to the Blew Anchor, 

I / near to Billingsgate, by sixe a clocke ; where I and my 

chiefe friends, bound for this Toyage, will with feast attend 

Sec, The money, most honourable compere, shal with- 
out faile observe your appointed howre. 

Pet, Thankes, my deere gossip. I must now impart 
To your approved love, a loving secret. 
As one on whome my life doth more rely 
In friendly trust then any man alive. 
'■■ Nor shall you be the chosen secretary 

Of my affections for affection onely : 
For I protest (if God blesse my retume) 
To make you partner in my actions gaine 
As deepely as if you had ventur'd with mee 
Halfe my expences. Know then, honest gossip, 
I have injoyed with such divine contentment 
A gentlewomans bedde whome you well know, 
^ That I shall nere injoy this tedious voyage, 

r Nor live the lest part of time it asketh. 

Without her presence : so I thirst and hunger 
To taste the deare feast of her company. 
And if the hunger and the thirst you vow 
' ' (As my swome gossip) to my wished good 

^ u Be (as I know it is) mifaind and firme, 

Do me an easie favour in your power. 

sc. II.] BJSTfFARD HOE. 47 

Sec. Be sure, brave gossip, all that I can do, 
To my best nerve, is wholy at your service. 
Who is the woman (first) that is our friend P 

Fet. The woman is your learned councels wife. 
The lawyer, Maister Bramble ; whom would you 
i^ring out this even in honest neighbourhood. 
To take his leave with you, of me your gossip^ 
I, in the meane time, will send this my friend 
Home to his house, to bring his wife disguis'd, 
Before his face, into our companie ; 
For love hath made her looke for such a wile 
To free her from this tyranous jelousie. 
And I would take this course before another. 
In stealing her away to make us sport, 
And gull his circumspection the more grosely. 
And I am sure that no man like your selfe 
Hath credit with him to intise his jelousie 
To so long stay abroad as may give tmie 
To her enlardgement in such safe disguise. 

Sec, A pretty, pithy, and most pleasant project ! 
Who would not straine a point of neighbour-hood 
For such a point, de-vice ? that as the shippe 
Of famous Draco went about the world. 
Will wind about the lawyer, compassing 
The world himselfe ; he hath it in his armes. 
And thats enough for him, without his wife. 
A lawyer is ambitious, and his head 
Cannot be prais*de, nor raisde too high. 
With any forcke of highest knavery. 
He go fetch her straight. [Exit Security. 

Pet. So, so. Now, Francke, go thou home to his 

f 48 EASTWARD HOE. [act hi. 

I • • Stead of his lawyers, and bring his wife hether. 

Who, just like to the lawyers wife, is prison'd 
With eyes sterae usurous jelousie, which could never 
Be over-reacht thus but with over-reaching. 

; f Enier Security. 

' Sec, And, M. Francis, watch you th* instant time 

To enter with his exit : t' will be rare 
To iind homd beasts ! — a cammel and lawyer ! 
Quick, How the old villaine jopes in villany ? 
Sec, And harke you, gossip, when you have her here. 
Have your bote ready, shippe her to your ship 
With utmost hast, lest M. Bramble stay you. 
To o're-reach that head that outreacheth all heads, 
Tis a trick rampant ! — tis a very quiblyn ! 
I hope this harvest to pitch cart with lawyers. 
Their heads will be so forked. This slie tooche 
Will get apes to invent a number such. [ExU. 

i! Q^ick, Was ever rascall honnied so with poison ? 

i( " He that delights in slavish avarice, 

(I Is apt to joy in every sort of vice." 

\ Well, ile goe fetch his wife, whilst he the lawyers. 

Pet, But stay, Franck ; lets thinke how we may dis- 
, guise her upon this sodaine. 

J Quick, Gods me ! there 's the mischiefe 1 But harke 

you, her 's an excellent device : fore God, a rare one ! 
I will cany her a sailers gowne and cap, and cover her, 
|l I and a players beard. 

J Pet, And what upon her head ? 

j 1^ Quick, I tell you, a saylers cap I Slight, Ged forgive 

I me I what kind of figent memory have you? 

Pet, Nay, then, what kind of figent wit hast thou ? 


sc. n.] EASTWARD HOE. 49 

A saylers cap? — ^how shall she put it off 
When thou presentst her to our company ? 

Quick, Tush, man, for that ! Make her a sawde sayler. 

Fet. Tush, tush! tis no fit sawce for such sweete 
mutton. I know not what t' advise. 

Enter Security, toith his Wives gowne. 

Sec, Knight, knight, a rare devise ! 

Fet. Swones, yet againe 1 

Quick. What stratageme have you now ? 

Sec. The best that ever. Tou talkt of disguising? 

Fet, I, marry, gossip, thats our present pare. 

Sec. Cast care away then ; here 's the best device 
Fore plains Security (for I am no better) 
I thinke that ever liv'd : heer 's my wiyes gowne. 
Which you may put upon the lawyers wife, 
And which I brought you, sir, for two great reasons : 
One is, that Maister Bramble may take hold 
Of some suspicion that it is my wife. 
And gird me so perhappes with his law wit ; 
The other (which is policy indeed) 
Is, that my wife may now be tied at home. 
Having no more but her olde gowne abroad. 
And not showe me a quirck, whiles I fyrke others. 
Is not this rare ? 

Ambo, The best that ever was. 

Sec. Am I not borne to furnish gentlemen ? 

Fet. O my deare gossip ! 

Sec. Well hold, Maister Francis, watch when the 
lawyer 's out, and put it in. And now I will go fetch him. 


Quick. O my dad ! hee goes as 'twere the devill to 
III. 4 



[act III. 


fetch the lawyer ; and devill shall he be, if hcnmes will 
make him. 

Pet, Why, how now, gossip? — ^why stay you there 

Sec. A toy, toy runnes in my hed, yfiedth. 

Quick. A pox of that head ! is there more toyes yet ? 

Pet. "What is it, pray thee, gossip ? 

Sec. Why, sir, what if you should slip away now with 
my wives best gowne, I having no security for it ? 

Quick. For that I hope, dad, you will take our words. 

Sec. I, by th' masse, your word — ^thats a proper staffe 
For wise Security to leane upon ! 
But tis no matter, once ile trust my name 
On your crakt credits ; let it take no shame. 
Fetch the wench, Francke. [Exit. 

Quick. He waite upon you, sir. 
And fetch you over, you were never so fetcht. 
Go to the taveme, knight ; your followers 
Bare not be drunke, I thinke, before their captaine. [Exit. 

Pet. Would I might lead them to no hotter service. 
Til our Virginian gould were in our purses ! [Exit. 

Enter Seagull, Sfendal, and Scafethbift, in the 
Taverne, with a Drawer. 

Sea. Come, drawer, pierce your neatest hogsheads, and 
lets have cheare — not fit for your Billingsgate taveme, 
but for our Virginian colonel ; he will be here instantly. 

Draw. You shal have al things fit, sir; please you 
have any more wine ? 

Spend. More wine, slave I whether we drinke it or no, 
spill it, and drawe more. 

Scap. Fill al the pottes in your house with al sorts of 

sc. 11.] EASTWARD HOE. 61 «j 


Kcour, and let 'hem waite on us here like sooldiers in their 
pewter coates ; and though we doe not emploie them now, 
yet we will maintaine 'hem till we doe. 

Draw. Said like an honourable captaine ; you shal have 
al you can commaund, sir. [ExH Drawer. 

Sea, Come, boyes, Virginia longs till we share the rest 
of her maiden-head. 

Spend. Why, is she inhabited alreadie with any Eng- 

Sea. A whole countrie of English is there, man, bread 
of those that were left there in '79 ; they have married 
with the Indians, and make 'hem bring forth as beautifiill 
faces as any we have in England; and therefore the 
Indians are so in love with 'hem, that all the treasure they 
have they lay at their feete. 

Scap. But is there such treasure there, captaine, as 
I have heard ? 

Sea. I tell thee, golde is more plentifull there then 
copper is with us ; and for as much redde copper as I can 
bring, He have thrise the waight in gold. Why, man, 
aU their dripping-pans and their chamber-potts are pure 
gould; and all the chaines with which they chaine up 
their streets are massie gold ; all the prisoners they take 
are feterd in gold; and for rubies and diamonds, they 
goe forth on holydayes and gather 'hem by the sea-shore, 
to hang on their childrens coates, and sticke in their 
childrens caps, as commonly as our children weare saflEron- 
gilt brooches and groates with hoales in 'hem. 

Scap. And is it a pleasant countrie withall ? 

Sea, As ever the simne shind on : temperate and fal 
of all sorts of excellent viands ; wilde bore is as common 
there as our tamest bacon is here ; venison, as mutton. 


f 52 EASTWARD HOE. [act m. 

( And then you shall live freely there, without sargeants, 

* I or courtiers, or lawyers, or intelligencers. Then for your 

meanes to advandbment, there it is simple, and not pre- 
posterously mixt. Tou may bee an alderman there, and 
never be seavinger; you may bee any other officer, and 
never be a slave. You may come to preferment enough, 
and never be a pandar; to riches and fortune enough, and 
have never the more villanie nor the lesse witte. Be- 
sides, there wee shall have no more law then consdenoe, 
and not too much of eyther ; serve GK)d enough, eate and 
drinke inough, and *' enough is as good as a feast." 
Spend. Gt)ds me ! and how farre is it thether ? ' 
Sea. Some six weekes saile, no more, with any in- 
different good winde. And if I get to any part of the 
coaste of Affrica, ile saile thether with any winde; or 
when I come to Cape Finister, ther 's a foreright winde 
continuall wafts us till we come to Virginia. See, our 
collonell's come. 

Enter Sir Petkonell with his/bUowers. 

Pet. Well met, good Captaine Seagull, and my noble 
gentlemen! Now the sweete houre of our freedome is 
at hand. Come, drawer, fill us some carowses, and 
prepare us for the mirth that will be occasioned presently. 
Here will be a pretty wenche, gentlemen, that will beare 
us company all our voyage. 

Sea. Whatsoever she be, here 's to her health, noble 
^ . colonell, both with cap and knee. 

Pet. Thankes, kinde Captain Seagull ; shee *8 one I love 
dearly, and must not be knowne till we be free from all 
that knowe us. And so, gentleman, heer 's to her health. 



sc. II.] EASTWARD HOE. 63 

Amho. Let it come, worthy collonnell ; *' Wee doe 
hunger and thirst for it." 

Fet, Afore Heaven I you have hitte the phrase of one 
that her presence will touch from the foote to the forhead, 
if yee knew it, 

Spend. Why, then, we will not joyne lus forhead with 
her health, sir ; and Captaine Scapethrift, heer 's to them 

EfUer SsctJEiTiE and Bramble. 

Sec. See, see, Maister Bramble; fore Heaven 1 their 
voyage cannot but prosper ; they are o' their knees for 
successe to it I 

Bram. And they pray to God Bacchus. 

Sec. God save my brave colonell, with aU his taU cap- 
taines and corporalls 1 See, sir, my worshipfuU learned 
oounsaile, M. Bramble, is come to take his leave of you. 

Fet. Worshipful M. Bramble, how farre doe you draw 
us into the sweete bryer of your kindnes P CcHne, Cap- 
tain Seagul, another health to this rare Bramble that hath 
never a pricke about him* 

Sea. I pledge his most smooth disposition, sir. Come, 
Maister Securitie, bend your supporters, and pledge this 
notorious health here. 

Sec. Bend you your likewise, M. Bramble ; for it is 
you shall pledge me. 

Sea. Not so, M. Securitie, he must not pleadge his owne 

Sec. No, Maister Captaine. | 

Enter Quickesilvee, mih Winny disguUed. I 

Why, then, here's one is fitly come to doe him that 


' I 




[act in. 

Qtfu;^. Here 's the gentlewoman, your oosio, sir, whom 
with much entreatie I have brought to take her leaye of 
you in a taveme ; ashamed whereof, you must pardon her 
if she put not off her maske. 

Pet Pardon me, sweet cosen ; my kinde desire to see 
you before I went, made me so importunate to entreat 
your presence here. 

Sec, How now, M. Francis, have you honoured this 
presence with a faire gentlewoman ? 

Qiuick, Pray, sir, take you no notice of her, for she will 
not be knowne to you. 

Sec. But my leam'd counsaile, M. Bramble here, I 
hope may know her. 

Q^ick, No more then you, sir, at this time ; his learn- 
ing must pardon her. 

Sec. Well, Grod pardon her for my part, and I do, ile 
be swome ; and so, Maister Francis, heer 's to all that are 
going eastward to-night towards Cuckolds Haven; and 
so to the health of Ifaister Bramble. 

Quick. I pledge it, sir ; hath it gone round, captaine ? 

Sea. It has, sweet Franck ; and the round doses with 

Quick. Well, sir, here 's to al eastward, and toward 
cuckolds, and so to famous Cuckolds Haven, so fatalfy re- 
membred. [Surgit, 

Pet. Nay, pray thee, coz, weepe not, gossip Security. 

Sec. I, my brave gossip. 

Pet. A word, I beseech you, sir ; our friend, Mistresse 
Bramble here, is so dissolv'd in teares, that she drowns 
the whole mirth of our meeting. Sweet gossip, take her 
aside and comfort her. 

Bee. Pitty of all true love, Mistresse Bramble; what. 

sc. 11.] EASTWARD HOE. 66 

weepe you to injoy yovr love P Whats the cause, lady ? 
ist because your husband is so neere, and your heart 
eames to have a litUe abus'd him I AhLis, ahlas ! the 
offence is too common to bee lespected. So great a grace 
hath seldome chanc'd to so unthankfiill a woman, to be rid 
of an old jealous dotard ; to injoy the armes of a loving 
young kmght, that when your prick-lesse Bramble is 
withered with griefe of your losse, will make you florish 
a fresh in the bed of a lady. 

Enter Drawer. 

Draw. Sir Petronel, here 's one of your watermen come 
to tell you it wil be flood these three howres ; and that 
'twill be dangerous gomg against the tide, for the side is 
overcast^ and there was a porpisce even now scene at Lon- 
don Bridge, which is alwayes the messenger of tempests, he 

Pet, A porpisce ! — whats that to th' piupose P Charge 
him, if hee loye his life, to attend us ; can we not reach 
Blackwall (where my ship Hes) against the tide, and in 
spight of tempests P Captaynes and gentlemen, wee '11 
begin a new oeremonie at the beginning of oar voyage, 
which I beleeve will be followed of all future adven- 

Sea. Whats that, good colonellP 

Fet, This, Gaptaine Seagull* Wee'H have our provided 
supper brought a bord Sir Frauds Drakes ship, that hath 
compast the world, where, with full cups and banquets, 
wee will doe sacrifice for a prosperous voyage. My mind 
gives me that some good spirits of the waters should 
haunt the desart ribs of her, and be auspicious to all that 

5« EASTWARD HOE. [act hi. 

honour h^ memoiy» and will with like orgies enter their 

Sea. Barely concepted 1 One health more to this mo- 
tion, and aboard to performe it. He that wil not this 
night be drunke, may he never be sober. 

[They compaase in Wynnifrid, daunce the drankem 
ratmd, and drinke caroweeB. 

Bram. Sir Petronell and his honourable captaines, in 
these young services we old servitors may be spared. 
We onely came to take our leaves, and with one health to 
you all, lie be bold to do so. Here, neighbour Security, 
to the health of Sir Petronell and all his captaines. 

Sec. You must bend then, Maister Bramble ; so now I 
am for you. I have one comer of my braine, I hope, fit 
jx) beare one carouse more. Here, lady, to you that are 
incompast there, and are asham'd of our company. Ha, 
ha, ha 1 by my troth, my leamd counsaile, Maister Bramble, 
my mind runnes so to Cuckholdes Haven to-night, that 
my head runnes over with admiration. 

Bram, But is not that your wife, neighbour ? 

Sec. No, by my troth, Maister Bramble. Ha, ha, ha ! 
a pox of all Cuckholds Havens, I say. 

Bram. A' my faith, her garments are exceeding like 
your wives. 

Sec. Cucttllus nanfacit Mbnachum, my learned coun- 
saile ; all are not cuckholds that seeme so, nor al seeme 
not that are so. Give me your hand, my learned counsaile, 
you and I will suppe some where else then at Sir Francis 
Drakes ship to-night. Adue, my noble gossip. 

Bram. Grood fortune, brave captaines ; faire skies Gk>d 
send you I 

Omnes. Earewell, my hearts, farewell ! 

sc. II.] EA8TJFARB HOE. 57 

Pet, Gossip, langli no more at Cuckholds Haven, gossip. 

Sec, I have done, I Have done, sir; will you lead 
Maister Bramble ? Ha, ha, ha ! [Ex. 

Pet, Gaptaine Seagull, charge a boate. 

Omnea, A boate, a boate, a boate 1 [Exeimt, 

Bra, Y* are in a proper taking indeed, to take a boate, 
especially at this time of night, and against tide and 
tempest. They say yet, " Drunken men never take harme." 
This night will trie the truth of that proverbe. [Exit. 

Enter Secubitie* 

Sec, What, Winny ? — ^wife, I say ? out of dores at this 
time! where should I seeke the gad-flieP BiUinsgate, 
Billinsgate, BiUinsgate! Shee's gone with the knight, 
shea 's gone with the knight ; woe be to the Billingsgate I 
A boate, a boate, a boate, a fiill hundred markes for a 
boate I 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 



58 EASTWARD HOE. [act it. 



Enter Slitgut, with apaire ofoxe homes y discovering 
Cuckholds Haven above, 

Slit. ^^MSfS ^ ^ hsaiei &iTe haven of married men 
onely ! for there are none but married 
men cuckolds. For my part, I presume 
not to arrive here, but in my maisters 
behalfe (a pooie butcher of East-cheape), who sends me to 
set up (in honour of Saint Luke) these necessary ensignes 
of his homage. And up I gat this morning, thus early, 
to get up to the top of this £Eunous tree, that is all finiite 
and no leaves, to advance this crest of my maisters occapa- 
tion. Up then. Heaven and Saint Luke blesse me, that I 
be not blown into the Thames aa I dime, with this toious 
tempest 1 Slight I I thinke the divell be abroade, in like- 
nesse of a storme, to robbe me of my homes I Harke 
how he roaxes. Lord 1 what a coyle the Thames keeps ! 
shee beares some unjust burthen, I bdeeve, that shee 
kicks and curvets thus to cast it. Heaven blesse all 
honest passengers that ar& upon her back now ; for the 
bitte is out of her mouth, I see, and shee will runne away 
with 'hem I So, so, I thinke I have made it looke the 
right way ; it runnes against London Bridge (as it were) 
even fall butt. And nowe let me discover from this lofty 


prospect, what pranckes the rode Thames phiies in her 
desperate lunacie. O me I heers a boate has beene cast 
away hard by. Alas, alasl see one of her passengers 
labouring for his life to land at this haven here ! pray 
Heaven hee may recover it ! His next land is even just 
under me ; hold out a little, whatsoever thou art ; pray, 
and take a good heart to thee. Tis a man ; take a mans 
heart to thee yet ; a little further, get up a' thy leggs, 
man ; now tis shallow enought. So, so, so. Alas ! hee 's 
downe againe. Hold thy winde, father : tis a man in a 
night-Ksap. So ! now hee's got up againe ; now hee 's past 
the worst : yet, thankes be to Heaven, he comes toward 
me prety and strongly. 

Enter Segubity mthoui Ma hat, in an nigktrcapy 
wett bandy §fc. 

Sec, Heaven, I beseech thee, how have I offended thee ! 
where am I cast a shore now, that I may goe a righter 
way home by land ? Let me see ; I am scarce able to 
looke about me : where is there any sea marke that I am 
acquainted with all ? 

Slit. Looke up, father, are you acquainted with this 
marke P 

Sec. What ! landed at Cuckolds Haven I Hell and 
damnation I I will runne backe and drowne my selfe. 

[He folk downe. 

Slit. Poore man, how weake he is 1 the weake water 
has washt away his strength. 

Sec. Landed at Cuckholds Haven I If it had not bin 
to die twenty times alive, I shold never have scapt death ! 
I wil never arise more ; I wil grovell here, and eate durt 

60 EASTWARD EOE. [act tv. 

tU I be choakt ; I will make the gentle earth do that the 
croell water has denied me 1 

Slit. Alasl good father, be not so desperate! Eise» 
man; if you wil, ile come presently and lead you home. 

See, Home 1 shall I make any know my home, that has 
knowne me thus abrode P How lowe shal I crouch away, 
that noe eye may see me ! I wil creepe on the earth while 
I live, and never looke heaven in the face jnore I 

[ExU creeping. 

SlU. What young planet ndgnes now troe, that old 
men are so foolish? What desperate young swaggerer 
would have beene abroad such a weather as this, upon the 
water? Ay me 1 see another remnant of this unfortunate 
ship-wrack, or some other. A woman, yfaith, a woman ; 
though it be almost at S. Elathems, I disceme it to be a 
woman, for al her body is above the water, and her cloths 
swim about her most handsomely. O, they beare her up 
most bravely I has not a woman reason to love the taking up 
of her cloaths the better while she lives, for this? Alasl how 
busie the rude Thames is about her! A pox a' that 
wave ! it will drowne her, yfaith, twill drowne her ! Crye 
Grod mercy, shee has scapt it — I thank Heaven she has 
scapt it 1 O how she swims like a mermaid 1 some vigilant 
body looke out and save her. Thats well said; just where 
the priest fell in, theres one sets downe a ladder, and goes 
to take her up. Gods blessing a thy heart, boy! Now 
take her up in thy armes and to bed with her ; shees up, 
shees up 1 Shees a beautifull woman, I warrant her ; the 
billowes durst not devoure her. 

Ikter the Drawer m the Tdoeme he/ore, with Winniprid. 
Dra» How fare you now, lady ? 

sc. I.] EASTWARD SOE. 61 

Wffn, Mueh better, my good frieod, then I wish ; as 
one desperate of her £Eune, now my life is pieserred. 

Dra, Comfort your selfe : that Power that preserved 
;you from death, can likewise defend you from iafamie, 
howsoever you deserve it. Were not you one that tooke 
bote late this night, with a knight and other gentlemen at 
Billings-gate ? 

Wffn, Unhappy that I am, I was. 

J)ra, I am glad it was my good happe to come downe 
thus farre after you, to a house of my friends heere in 
S. Katherines, since I am now happily made' a meane to 
your rescue from the ruthlesse tempest, which (when you 
tooke boate) was so extreame, and the gentleman that 
brought you forth so desperate and unsober, that I fear'd 
long ere this I should heare of your ship-wracke, and 
therefore (with little other reason) made thus farre this way. 
And this I must tell you, since perhaps you may make 
use it, there was left behind you at our taveme, brought 
by a porter (hir'd by the young gentleman that brought' 
you), a gentlewomans gowne, hat, stockins^ and shooes ; 
which if they bee yours, and you please to shift you, taking 
a hard bed here in this house of my friend, I will pre- 
sently go fetch you. 

JFifn, Thankes, my good friend, for your more then 
good newes. The gowne with all things bound with it 
are mine ; which if you please to fetch as you have pro- 
mist, I will bouldly receive the kinde favour you have 
offered, till your retume ; intreating you, by all the good 
you have done in preserving mee hitherto, to let none take 
knowledge of what favour you do me, or where such a one 
as I am bestowed, least you incurre me much more damage 
in my fame then you have done mee pleasure in preserving 
my life. 

6d EA8TWABD HOE. [act it. 

Dra, Come in, lady, and shift your aelfe; leaoke that 
nothing bnt your owne pleasure shall be nade in your 

Wfn, Thanke you, good friend; the time may come 
when I shall reqtdte you. [JSitemU. 

8Ut, See, see, see 1 I hold my life, thefe's some other 
taking up at Wapping now! Looke, what a sort of 
people cluster about the gallows there ! in good trotli it 
is so. O me ! a fine young gentleman ! What, and 
taken up at the gallowes ! Heaven graunt he be not one 
day taken downe there ! A, my life it is ominous! Wetl, 
he is delivered for the time ; I see the people have al left 
him ; yet wil I keepe my prospect a while, to see if any 
more have bin ship-wrackt. 

EfUer Quicksilver, bare head. 

Qmick. Accurs't that ever I was sav'd or borne ! 
How fatall is my sad arrival here ! 
As if the starres and Providence spake to me. 
And said, " The drift of all unlawfiill courses 
(What ever end they dare propose themselves. 
In frame of their licentious policyes). 
In the firme order of just destinie. 
They are the ready high wayes to our ruines." 
I know not what to doe ; my wicked hopes 
Are, with this tempest, tome up by the rootes. 
O ! which way shall I bend my desperate steppes, 
In which unsufferable shame and miserie 
Will not attend them P I will walke this banck. 
And see if I can meete^ the other reliques 
Of our poore ship-wrackt crew, or heare of them. 
The knight, alas ! was so farre gone with wine. 

sc. I.] EASTWARD HOE. 63 

And th' other thi«e, that I refusde their boate. 
And tooke the haplesse woman in another. 
Who cannot but be suncke, what ever fortune 
Hath wrought upon the others desperate lives. 

Enter Petbonel and Seaoul, bareheaded. 

Fet. Zounds ! captaine, I tell thee, we are cast up o'the 
coast of France. Sfoote ! I am not drunke still, I hope. 
Dost remember where we were last night ? 

Sea. No, by my troth, knight, not I ; but me thinks 
we have bin a horrible while upon the water and in the 

Pet. Aye mee 1 we are undone for ever ! Hast any 
money about thee ? 

Sea. Not a penny, by Heaven ! 

Fet. Not a penny betwixt us, and cast a^ore in France^ 

Sea. Faith, I cannot teU that ; my braines nor mine 
eyes are not mine owne yet. 

Enter two Gentlemen. 

Fet. Sfoote! wilt not bdeeve me? I know't by th' 
elevation of the pole, and by the altitude and latitude of 
the climate. See, here comes a coople of French gentle- 
men ; I knew we were in France ; dost thou think our 
Englishmen are so Frenchyfied, that a man knowes not 
whether he be in France or in England, when he sees 
'hem ? What shall we do ? We must eene to 'hem, and 
intreat some reliefe of 'hem. Life is sweete, and wee have 
no other meanes to reheve our lives now but their charities. 

Sea. Pray you, do you beg an 'hem then; you can 
speak French. 

Fet. Monsieur, plaist il davoir pity de nostre grande 

64 EASTWARD HOE, [act iv. 

infortunes. Je sius iin poure cheyalier d' Angleterre qui a 
suffril infortune de naufrage. 

1 Gen, Un poure chevalier d'Angliterre P 

Pet. Oui, monsieur, il est trop vray ; mais yous scaves 
bien nous somes toutes subject a fortune. 

2 Oen, A poore knight of England ? — ^a poore knight of 
Windsore, are you not ? Why speake you this broken 
French, when y'are a whole Englishman? On what 
coast are you, thinke youP 

1 Oen, On the coast of Dogges, sir ; y' are ith' Be a 
Dogges, I tel you I see y* ave bin washt in liie Thames here, 
and I beleeve yee were drownd in a taveme before, or 
els you would never have toke boat in such a dawning as 
this was. Farewell, farewel ; we wil not know you for 
shaming of you. I ken the man weel ; hees one of my 
thirty pound knights. 

2 Gen, Now this is hee that stole his knighthood o'the 
grand day for foure pound giving to a page ; al the monie 
in's purse, I wot wel. [Exeunt. 

Sea, Death ! collonel, I knew you were over-shot ! 

Pet, Sure I thinke now, indeed, Captaine Seagul, we 
were some thing over-shot. 

• Enter Quickesilvek. 
What! my sweete Franck Quicksilver! does thou sur- 
vive to rejoyce me? But what! no body at thy heels, 
Franck? Ay mee! what is become of poore li£stresse 

Qjttich, Faith, gone quite from her name, as shee is 
from her fame, I thinke \ I left her to the merde of the 

Sea, Let her goe, let her goe I Let us go to our ship 
at Blackwall, and shift us. 


Pet, Nay, by my troth, let our doaths rotte upon us, 
end let us rotte in them ; twenty to one our ship is attacht 
by this time 1 If we set her not undersaile this last tide, 
I never looke for any other. Woe, woe is me! what 
shall become of us ? The last money we could make, the 
greedy Thams has devoured; and if our ship be attacht, 
there is no hope can relieve us. 

Qtiiich, Sfoot 1 knight, what an unknightly faintnesse 
transports thee ! Let our shippe sincke, and all the world 
thats without us be taken from us, I hope I have some 
trickes in this braine of mine shall not let us parish. 

Sea, Wei said, Franck, yfeith. O, my nimble-spirited 
Quicksilver 1 Foiegod 1 would thou hadst beene our 
coUonell ! 

Fet, I like his spirit rarely ; but I see no meanes he 
has to support that spirit. 

Q^ick, Go too, laiight! I have more meanes then 
thou art aware off. I have not Hv'd amongst gould- 
smiths and gouldmakers all this while, but I have learned 
something worthy of my time with 'hem. And not to let 
thee stincke wherh thou standst, knight, lie let thee know 
some of my skill presently. 

Sea. Doe, good Francke, I beseech thee. 

Qiuick, I will blanch copper so cunningly that it shall 
endure all proofees but the test : it shall endure mallea- 
tion, it shall have the ponderositie of Luna, and the 
tenacity of Luna — ^by no means friable. 

Pet, Slight ! where leamst thou these tearmes, tro P 

Qiuick. Tush, knight 1 the tearmes of this art every 
quack-salver is perfect in ; but ile tell you how your selfe 
shall blanch copper thus cunningly. ' Take arsnicke, 
otherwise called realga (wkich indeed is plaine ratsbane) ; 

III. 5 

66 EASTWARD ffOJB. [act iv. 

sublime liem three or foore times, then take the sublimate 
of this realga, and put 'hem into a glaase, into chymia, 
and let them have a convenient decoction natural, fouie* 
and-twenty howres, and he wil become perfectly fixt ; then 
take this fixed powder, and project him upon, wel-puigd 
copper, et hahebk magUterium, 

Ambo, Excellent Franck, let us hugge thee ! 

Q^ick. Nay, this I wil do besides : lie take you off 
twelve pence from every angell, with a kinde of aqua fbrtifl, 
and never deface any part of the image. 

FeL But then it will want weight. 

Qukk, Ton shall restore that thus: Take yo:ur sal 
achime prepar'd, and your distild urine, and let your 
angels lie in it but foure-and-twenty houres, and they 
shall have their perfect weight againe. Come on now ; I 
holde this is enough to put some spirit into the livers of 
you ; lie infuse more an other time. Wee have saluted 
the proud ayre long enough with our bare skonoes ; now 
will I have you to a wenches house of mine at London, 
there make shift to shift us, and after, take such fortunes 
as the starres shall assign us. 

Ambo. Notable Franck, we wiU ever adore thee 1 


Enter Drawer^ with Wtnnipmd new attired. 

Win. Now, sweete Mend, you have brought me neere 
enough your taveme, which I desired I might with some 
colour bee scene neare, inquiring for my husband, who I 
must tell you stole thether the last night with my wet 
gowne we have left at your friends, which, to continue 
your former honest kindnes, let me pray you to keepe 
dose from the knowledge of any ; and 80» with all vow of 

sa I.] EASTWARD HOE. «7 

yoTir lequitall, let me now entreat you to leave me to my 
womans wit and fortune. 

Draw, Al slial be done you desixe ; and so al the foiv 
tone you can wish for, attend yoo. [Exit Drawer. 

Enter Sbcubitt. 

Sec. I wil once more to this unhapyy tayeme before I 
shift one ragge of me more; that I may there know 
what is left behind, and what newes of their passengera. 
I have bought me a hat and band with the little money 
I had about me, and made the streats a litle leave staring 
at my night-cap. 

Wyn. O, my deare husband ! where have you bin to- 
night P All night abroade at tavemes ! Bob me of my 
garments I and fare as one run away from me 1 Ahlas 1 
is this seemely for a man of your credit, of your age, and 
affection to your wife P 

Sec. What should I say P — ^how miruculously sorts this P 
— ^was not I at home, and cald thee last night P 

JFm. Yes, sir, the harmelesse sleepe you broke ; and 
my answer to you would have witnest it, if you had had 
the patience to have staid and answered me ; but your so 
sodain retrait .made me imagine you were gone to M. 
Brambles, and so rested patient and hopefiill of your com* 
ming againe, till this your unbeleeved absence brought me 
abrode with no less than wonder, to seeke you where the 
false knight had carried you. 

Sec. Yillaiue and monster that I was I how have I 
abus'd theeP I was suddenly gone indeed; for my sodaine 
jelouflie transferred me. I will say no more but this : 
deare wife, I suspected thee. 

Wyn. Did you suspect me P 

eS BA8TWARB HOE, [act iv. 

Sec, Talke not of it, I beseech thee ; I am ashamed to 
imagine it. I will home, and eveiy morning on my knees 
fiske thee heartelie, forgivenesse. [Exeunt. 

Now will I descend my honomrable prospect ; the &r« 
thyest seeing sea mark of the world ; noe marvaile, then, 
if I conld see two miles about me. I hope the redde 
tempests anger be nowe over blowne, which sure, I thinke. 
Heaven sent as a punishment for prophaning holie Saint 
Lukes memorie with so ridicolous a custome. Thou dis- 
honest satire ! farewell to honest married men, farewell to 
all sorts and degrees of thee 1 Farewell, thou home of 
hunger, that calst th' innes a court to their manger ! Fare* 
well, thou home of aboundanoe, that adomest the heads- 
men of the common wealth ! Farewell, thou home of 
direction, that is the Citty lanthome ! Farewell, thou 
home of pleasure, the ensigne of the huntsman! Farewell, 
thou home of destiny, th' ensigne of the married man ! 
Farewell, thou home tree, that bearest nothing but stone- 
fruite! [ExU. 

Enter Touchstone. 

Totich, Ha, sirah! thinkes my knight adventure we 
can no point of our compasseP Doe wee not knowe 
north-north>-east, north-east-and-by-east, east-and-by* 
north? nor plaine eastward? Ha! have we never heard 
of Virginia? northe Canallaria? nor the Colonoria ? Can 
we discover no discoveries ? Well, mine errant Sir Flash, 
and my mnnagate Quicksilver, you may drinke dronke, 
cracke Cannes, hurle away a browne dozen of Monmouth 
capps or so, in sea ceremony to your hone voyage ; but for 
reaching any coast, save the coast of Kent or Essex,* with 
this tide, or with this fleete. He bee your warrant for a 
Gravesend tost. Ther 's that gone afore will stay your 

sc. I.] SJSTJFJRD EOS. 69 

admirall and yice-admirall and rere-admiraU, were they all 
(as they are) but one pinnace, and under saile, as well as a 
Bomora, doubt it not ; and from this sconce, without either 
ponder or shot. Worke upon that now. Nay, and 
you 'le shew trickes, weele vie with you a little. My 
daughter, his lady, was sent eastward by land, to a castle 
of his, i' the aire (in what region I know not), and (as I 
heare) was glad to take up her lodging in her coach, she 
and her two waiting-women, her mayd, and her mother^ 
like three snailes in a shell, and the coachman a-topp on 
'hem, I thinke, since they have al found the way backe 
againe, by Weeping Crosse ; but ile not see 'hem. And 
for two of 'hem, madam and her maUdn, they are like to 
bite o' the bridle for William, as the poore horses lurre 
done all this while they hurried 'hem, or else to graze o' 
the common. So should my Dame Touchstone too ; but 
she has beene my crosse these 80 yeeres, and ile now 
keq[>eherto fright away sprights, yfaith. I wonder I 
heare no newes of my sonne Golding. Hee was sent for 
to the Gxuld-hall this morning betimes, and I marvaile at 
the matter ; if I had not laide up comfort and hope in him 
I should growe desperate of all. See! he is come i' my 
thought. How now, sonne ? What newes at the Court 
of Aldermen? 

Enter Golding. 

€hul. Troth, sir, an accident some what strange, els it 
hath litle in it worth reporting. 

Tcmch. What — it is not borrowing of money, then ? 

Gofd* No, sir; it hath pleasde the worshipful com" 
moners of the Cittie to take me one i' their number at pre-* 
sentation of the inquest 

70 EASTWARD HOB. [act it. 

Touch. Ha! 

Goul, And the aldennan of the warde wherein I dwd to 
i^point me his deputy 

Touch. How? 

Goul. In which place I have had an oath ministred me 
since I went. 

Touch. Now, my deare and happy sonne, let me kisse 
thy newe worship, and a little boast mine owne happines 
in thee. What a fortune was it (or rather my judgment, 
indeed) for me, first to see that in his disposition which a 
whole city so conspires to second ! Tane into the livorie 
of his company the first day of his freedome ! Now (not 
a weeke married) chosen commoner and aldermans deputy 
in a day I Note but the reward of a thnftie coursel The 
Vonder of his time 1 Well, I wil honour M. Alderman for 
this act (as becomes me), and shall thinke the better of the 
Common Councels wisdom and worship while I live, for 
thus meeting, or but comming after me, in the opinion of 
his desert, forward, my sufficient sonne! and as this is 
the first, so esteeme it the least step to that high and 
prime honour that expects thee. 

Goul, Sir, as I was not ambitious of this, so I covet no 
higher place ; it hath dignity enough, if it will but save 
me from contempt ; and I had rather my bearing in this 
or any other office should adde worth to it, then' the place 
give the least opinion to me. 

Touch. Excellently spoken! This modest answer of 
thine blushes, as if it said, I wil weare scarlet shortly* 
Worshipfiill sonne ! I cannot containe my selfe, I must 
tdl thee ; I hope to see thee one o' the monuments of our 
eitty, and reckon'd among her worthies to be remembred 
the same day with the Lady Eamsey and grave Gresham, 

so. I.] BASTWJRD HOE. 71 



when the &mous fable of Wfaittington and bis passe sbal 
be forgotten, and tbou and thy acts become the posies for 
hospitals ; when thy name shall be written upon conduits, 
and thy deeds plaid i' thy lifetime by the best companies of 
actors, and be calld their get-penie. , This I divine and 

Goul. Sir, engage not your expectation farder then my 
abilities wU answer ; I, that know mine own strengths, 
feare 'hem ; and there is so seldom a losse in promising 
the least, that commonly it brings with it a welcome 
deoeipt. I have other newes for you, sir. 

Touch. None more welcome, I am sure P fc \ 

Gould. They have their degree of welcome, I dare jj 

affirme. The colonell and al his company, this morning ^^ 

putting forth drunk from Belingsgate, had like to have 
beene cast away o' this side Greenwich, and (as I have 
intelligenoe by a false brother) are come dropping to 
towne like so many maisterless men, 'itheir doublets and 
hose, without hat, or doake, or any other S; 

Touch. A miracle ! the justice of Heaven ! Where are / 

they P lets goe presently and lay for 'hem. ] ^ 

Goul. I have done that already, sir, both by constables 
and other officers, who shall take 'hem at their old Anchor, 
and with less tumalt or suspition then if your selfe were 
Beene int — and under colour of a great presse that is now 
abroad, and they shaU here be brought afore me. 

Touch. Prudent and politique sonne ! Disgrace 'hem ^ . } 

all that ever thou canst; their ship I have already ^ ! ; ^ 

arrested. Howe to my wish it fals out, that thou hast , . ■' j 

the place of a justicer upon them ! I am partly glad of f 

the injurie done to me, that thou maist punish it. Be ' t 

severe ithy place, like a new officer o the first quarter, un- -, = 


72 EASTfFARB HOE. [act it- 

reflected. You heare how our lady is come back with her 
traine, from the invisible castle ? 

Qoul, No ; where is she P 

Touch, Within ; but I ha not scene her yet, nor her 
mother, who now beginnes to wish her daughter undubd, 
they say, and that she had walked a foot-pase with her 
sister. Here they come ; stand bacL 

Touchstone, Mistresse Touchstone, Gibtbude, 


God save your lidiship — save your good ladiship I Your 
ladiship is welcome from your inchanted castle, so are 
your beatious retinew. I heare your knight errant is tra^ 
veld on strange adventures. Surely, in my mind, your 
ladiship hath " fisht faire, and caught a frogge," as the 
saying is. 

Mist T, Speake to your father, madam, and kneete 

Qir. KneeleP I hope I am not brought so low yet; 
though my knight be run away, and has sold my land, I 
am a lady still. 

Toitch. Your ladiship saies true, madam; and it is 
fitter and a greater decorum, that I should curtsie to you 
that are a knights wife and a lady, then you be brought a 
your knees to me, who am a poore cullion and your 

Oir. Low ! — ^my father knowes his duty, 

Mist.T. 0, chHdl 

Touch, And therefore I doe desire your ladiship, my 
good Lady Flash, in all humility, to depart my obscure 
cottage, and retume in quest of your bright and most 
trantsparent castell, how ever presently conoeald to mortall 

ac. I.] EASTWARD EOS. 78 

eyes. And as for one poore woman of your traine here, I 
vDl take that order, shee shall no longer be a charge unto 
you, nor helpe to spend your ladiship ; she shall stay at 
liome with me, and not goe abroad, nor put you to the 
pawning of an odde ooach-horse or three wheeles, but 
take part with the Touchstones. K we lacke, we wil not 
ccmplaine to your ladiship. And so, good madam, with 
your damosell here, please you to let us see your straight 
backs in equipage ; for truly here is no roust for such 
chickens as you are, or birds o' your feather, if it like your 

Gir. Mary, fyste o' your kindnesse 1 I thought as 
much. Come away, Sinne, we shall as soone get a fart 
from a dead man as a farthing of court'sie here. 

MU. 0, good sister ! 

Oir, Sister Sir Eeverenoe I Come away, I say, hunger 
drops out at lus nose. 

Chul, O, madam, '' Faire words never hurt the 

Oir. Howe say you by that? You come out with 
your golde ends now I 

Mist. T. Stay, lady-daughter ; good husband ! 

Touch, Wife, no man loves his fetters, be they made of 
gold. I list not ha* my head fastned under my dulds 
girdle; as shee has brew'd, so let her drinke, a Gods 
name. She went witlesse to wedding, now she may goe 
wisely a begging. It 's but hony-moone yet with her ladi* 
ship ; she has coach horses, apparel, jewels yet left ; she 
needs care for no friends, nor take knowledg of father, 
mother, brother, sister, or any body. When those are 
pawn'd or spent, perhaps we shall retume into the list of 
her acquaintance. 

74 EA8TJFJRD EOS. [act it. 

Gir, I scome it, ifaith. Come, Sinne. [Exit Girt. 
MmL T. O, madam, why doe you provoke your father 


Touch, Nay, nay, eene let pride go afore ; shame wil 
follow after, I warrant you. Come, why doest thou weepe 
now P Thou are not the first good cow hast had an il 
ealfe, I trust. What 's the newes with that fellow P 

Enter Constable. 

Gou. Sir, the knight and your man QuicksilTer are 
without ; will *hem brought in ? 

Touch. 0, by any meanes. And, sonne, heer's a 
chaire ; appeare terrible unto 'hem on the first enter view. 
Let them behold the melancholy of a magistrate, aad 
taste the fury of a citizen in office. 

Oou. Why, sir, I can do nothing to *hem, except you 
charge them with somewhat. 

Tottch. I will charge 'hem and recharge Tiem, rather 
then authoritie should want fofle to set it off. 

Qou. No, good sir, I wil not. 

Touch. Sonne, it is your place ; by any meanes 

Gou. Beleeve it, I will not, sir. 

Enter Enight Fetbgnell, Quicksiltes, Constable, 


. Fet. How misfortune pursues us stiU iu our miseries 1 

Quick. Would it had bin my fortune to have bin trust 
up at Wapping, rather then ever ha come here ! 
: Pet. Or mine to have famisht in the iland ! 

Quick. Must Goulding sit upon us P 

Con. You might carry an M. under your girdle to Mr. 
Deputies worship. 

Gou. What are those, Mr. Constable P. 

sc. I.] BJSIWJRD HOB. 75 

€bfi« An 't please jour worship, a couple of maisterles 
men, I prest for the Low Countries, sir. 

6im. Why do you not carry 'hem to Bridewell acoard- 
ing to your order, they may be shipt away ? 

Com. An 't please your worship, one of hem says he is a 
knight ; and we thought good to shew him your worship, 
for our dischai^. 

Oou. Which is he? 

Qm. This, sir. 

Oou, And what 's the other P 

Con, A knights fellow, sir, an 't please you. 

€hu. What, a knight and his fellow thus accoutred? 
Where are their hats and feathers, their rapiers and 

Quick. O, they mock us ! 

Con. Nay, truely, sir, they had cast both their feathers 
and hattes too, before we did see 'hem. Here's all their 
fomitare, an't please you, that we found. They say, 
knights are now to be knowne without feathers, like 
cockrels by their spurres, sir. 

€hu. What are their names, say they ? 

Touch. Very wd this. He should not take knowledge 
of 'hem in his place, indeed. 

Con. This is Sir PetroDcll Flash. 

Toueh. How! 

Con. And this Francis Quickesilyer. 

Touch. Is't possible? I thought your worship had 
beene gone for Virginia, sir ; you are welcome home, sir. 
Your worshippe haz made a quicke retume, it seemes, and 
no doubt a good voyage. Nay, pray you be cover'd, sir. 
How did your bisquet hold out, sir ? Me thought I had 
scene this gentleman afore — good M. Quickesilver ! How 
a degree to the southward haz chang'd you ! 

76 EASTWARD HOM. [act it. 

Crou, Doe you know *hem, father? Fofbeare your 
offers a little, you shaU be heard anone. 

Touch. Tes, M. Deputie ; I had a small yenture with 
them in the voyage — a thing call'd a son-in-law, or so* 
Officers, you may let 'hem stand alone, they will not runne 
away; He give my word for them. A. couple of very 
honest gentlemen. One of 'hem was my prentise, M« 
Quicksilver here ; and when he had two yeares to serve, 
kept his whore and his hunting nag, would play his hmi- 
dred pound at gresco, or primero, as familiarly (and all 
a' my purse) as any bright peece of crimson on 'hem aU ; 
had lus changeable trunks of apparel standing at liveiy 
with his mare, his chest of perfumed linnen, and his 
bathing tubs, which when I told him of, why he I — ^he was 
a gentleman, and I a poore Cheapeside groome. The 
remedy was, we must part. Since when, he hath had the 
gift of gathring up som smal parcells of mine, to the value 
of five hundred pound disperst among my customers, to 
furnish this his Virginian venture; wherein this knight 
was the chief. Sir Flash — one that married a daughter of 
mine, ladified her, tumd two thousand pounds woorth of 
good land of hers into cash within the first weeke, bought 
her a new gowne and a coach ; sent her to seek her fortune 
by land, whilst himselfe prepared for Ms fortune by sea ; 
tooke in fresh flesh at Behnsgate, for his owne diet, to 
serve him the whole voyage — ^the wife of a certaine usurer 
calld Securitie, who hath been the broker for 'hem in all 
this businesse. Please, Maister Deputie, worke upon that 

Qou, If my worshipfull father have ended. 

Touch. I have, it shall please Mr. Deputy. 

Gou. Well then, under correction 


Touch, Now, son, come over 'hem with some fine gairdt 
as thus, " Knight, you shall be enoountred," that is, had 
to the Comiter ; or, *' Quicke-silver, I will put you in a 
carudble," or so. 

Oou. Sir Petronell Flash, I am sony to see such flashes 
as these prooeede from a gentleman of your quality and 
rancke; for mine own part, I could wish, I could say, 
I could not see them ; but such is the misery of magis- 
trates and men in place, that they must not winke at 
offenders. Take him aside ; I will heare you anone, sir. 

Touch. I like this well yet; there's some grace i' the 
knight left — he cries. 

Gou. Erands Quicksilyer, would God than hadst tumd 
Quacksalyer, rather then run into these dissolute and lewd 
courses ! It is great pitty ; thou art a proper young man, 
of an honest and dean face, somewhat neare a good on ; 
God hath done his part in thee ; but thou hast made too 
much, and been too prowd of that face, with the rest of 
thy bodie ; for maintainance of which in neate and garish 
attire, onely to be looked upon by some light bousewifes, 
thou hast prodigally consumed much of thy masters estate ; 
and, being by him gently admonished at seyerall times, 
hast returnd thy sdfe haughty and rebellious in thine 
answers, thundring out undvil comparisons, requiting 
all his kindnesse with a course and harsh behaviour; 
never returning thanks for any one benefit, but receiving 
all as if they had bin debts to thee, and no courtesies. 
I must teU thee, Francis, these are manifest signes of an 
ill nature; and God doth often punish such pride and 
outrecuidance with scome and infamie, which is the worst 
of misfortune. My worshipfiill father, what doe you 
please to charge them withall ? From the presse I will 
free 'hem, Maister Constable. 

78 EJSIJTJBJ) HOB. [act iv. 

Ckm, Then He leave your worsbip, sir. 

Qou. No, you may stay ; there will be other matters 
against 'hem. 

Touch. Sir, I do charge this gallant, M. Quicksilver, 
on suspition of felony ; and the knight as being accessaries 
in the receipt of my goods. 

Quick. 0, good sir ! 

Touch. Hold thy peace, impudent varlot, hold thy 
peace ! With what forehead or face dost thou offer to 
choppe logicke with me, having run such a race of riot 
as thou hast done ? Do's not the sight of this worshipfull 
mans fortune and temper confound thee, that was thy 
yonger fellow in household, and nowe come to have the 
place of a judge upon theeP Dost not observe this? 
Which of all thy gallants and gamsters, thy swearers and 
thy swaggerers, wiU come now to mone thy misfortune, 
or pitty thy penurie P Theyle looke out at a window, as 
thou rid'st in triumph to Tibome, and crie, "Yonder 
goes honest Franck, mad Quicksilver 1" " He was a free 
borne companion, when he had money," sayes one; 
" Hang him, foole !" sayes another, "hee could not keepe 
it when he had it ! " "A pox oth cullion, his Mr. (sales 
a third) has J)TOught him to this ;" when their pox of 
pleasure, and their piles of perdition, would have bin 
better bestowed upon thee, that hast ventred for 'hem 
with the best, and by the clew of thy knaverie brought 
thy selfe weeping to the cart of calamitie 

Q^kk. Worshipfull maister 1 

Touch. Offer not to speake, crocodile ; I will not heare 
a sound come from thee. Thou has learnt to whine at 
the play yonder. Maister Deputie, pray you commit 
hem both to safe custodie, till I be able farther to charge 

sc. I.] EASTWJMD HOB. 79 

Qliiick. O me ! what an unfortunate thing am 1 1 

Pet, Will you not take aecuiitie, sir P 

Touch, Yes, maiy, will I, Sir Flash, if I can find him, 
and charge him as deepe as the best on you. He has 
beene the plotter of all this ; he is your inginer, I heare. 
Maister Deputie, you 1e dispose of these. In the meane 
time, lie to my Lord Maior, and get his warrant to 
seize that serpent Securitie into my hands, and scale up 
both house and goods to the kings use or my satisfiaction. 

€hu. Officers, take 'hem to the Counter. 

Qnusk. PeL God ! 

Tomh. Nay, on, on 1 you see the issue of your sloth. 
Of sloth commeth pleasure, of pleasure commeth riot, 
of riot comes whoring, of whoring comes spending, of 
spending comes want, of want comes theft, of theft comes 
hanging ; and there is my Quicksilver fixt ! [Exeimt 

80 EASTWARD HOE. [act iv. 


Enter GrBTRUDE and Stndepie. 

;H, Synne! hast thou ever read i'tlie 
chronicle of any ladie and her waiting- 
women driven to that extremitie that 
'we are, Synne ? 

iS^9i. Not I, traely, madam; and if I had, it were but 
cold comfort should come out of the bookes now. 

Gyr, Why, good faith, Syn, I could dine with a 
lamentable storie, now — hone^ hone^ o no nera / §rc. 
Canst thou tell nere a one, Syn P 

Syn, None but mine owne, madam, which is lamentable 
inough : first to be stolne from my friends, which were 
worshipfull and of good acoompt, by a prentise, in the 
habite and disguise of a gentleman, and here brought 
up to London, and promis'd marriage, and now likely to 
be forsaken (for he is in possibilitie to be hangd) ! 

Oyr. Nay, weepe not, good Synne; my Petronell is 
in as good possibility as he. Thy miseries are nothing 
to mine, Synne: I was more then promis'd marriage, 
Synne, I had it, Synne ; and was made a lady ; and by 
a knight, Syn : which is now as good as no knight, 
Syn. And I was borne in London, which is more then 
brought up, Syn ; and alreadie forsaken, which is past 
likelihood, Syn ; and in stead of land i' the countrey, all 


my knights living lies i' the Counter, Syn : theiAs 's his 
castle now I 

Syn. Which he cannot be forc'd out of, madam. 

Oyr, Yes, if he would live hungrie a weeke or two. 
'* Hunger," they say, " breakes stone wals." But he is 
eoie wdl inough serv'd, Syn, that so soone as ever he 
had got my hand to the sale of my inheritance, ran away 
from me, and I had beene his puncke, Ood blesse us ! 
Would the knight o'the Sun, or Palmerine of England, 
haye used their ladies so, Syn, or Sir Lancelot ? or Sir 

Sifn. I do not know, madam. 

Gyr, Then thou knowest nothing, Syn. Thou art a 
foole, Syn. The knighthood, now adayes, are nothing 
like the knighthood of olde time. They ride a hors-backe; 
ours goe a foote. They were attended by their squires ; 
ours by their lackies. They went buckled in their 
armour; ours muffled in their cloaks. They travaild 
wildernesses and desarts; ours dare scarce walke the 
streets. They were stiU prest to engage their honor ; 
ours still ready to pawne their doaths. They would 
gallop on at sight of a monster ; ours runs away at sight 
of a Serjeant. They wold helpe poore ladies ; ouis make 
poore ladies. 

Syn, I, madam, they were knights of the Bound Table 
at Winchester, that sought adventures ; but these of the 
Square Table at ordinaries, that sit at hazard. 

Oyr. Trie, Syn, let him vanish. And tel me, what shal 
we pawn next ? 

Syn, I, mary, madam, a timely consideration ; for our 
hostesse (prophane woman !) haz swome by bread and salt, 
she will not trust us another meale. 

III. 6 

82 EASTJFARB HOE, [act t: 

Gir.'Let it stinkein her hand then. lie not be be* 
holding to her. Let me see, my jewels be gone, and my 
gowne, and my red velvet petticote that I was married in, 
and my wedding silke stocldngs, and aU thy best apparell. 
Poore Synl Good faith, rather then thou shouldest 
pawne a rag more, i'le lay my ladiship in lavender — ^if 
I knew where. 

8yn, Alas, madam, your ladiship I 

Gir, I — ^why P — ^you do not scome my ladiship, though 
it is in a wastcoate ? Gk)ds my life ! you are a peate 
indeed 1 Doe I offer to morgage my ladiship for you and 
for your avaHe, and do you tume the lip and the alas to 
my ladiship ? 

S^n, No, madam ; but I make question who will lend 
any thing upon it P 

Qir. WhoP — ^mary, inow, I warrant you, if you'le 
seeke 'hem out. I'm sure I remember the time when 
I would ha' given one thousand pound (if I had had it) 
to have bin a ladie ; and I hope I was not bred and bom 
with that appetite alone: some other gentle borne o* 
the Cittie have the same longing, I trust. And for my 
part, I wold afford 'hem a peni'rth ; my ladiship is little 
the worse for the wearing, and yet I would bate a good 
deale of the summe. I would lend it (let me see) for 
40 li. in hand, Syn, that would apparell us ; and 10 li. 
a yeare, that would keepe me and you, Syn (with our 
needles); and we should never need to be beholding to 
our scirvy parents. Good Lord I that there are no faires 
now a daies, Syn ! 

Syn, Why, madam P 

Gir, To doe miracles, and bring ladies money. Sure, 
if wee lay in a cleanly house, they would haunt it, Synne. 

sc. ij EASTWARD HOE. 83 

Hb trie. He sweepe the chamber soone at night, and 
set a dish of water o' the hearth. A fayrie may come, 
and bring a pearle or a diamond. We do not know, 
Synne. Or, there may be a pot of gold hid o' the back- 
side, if we had tooles to digge for 't P Why may not we 
two rise earely i' the morning, Synne, a fore any bodie 
is up, and find a jewell i'the streetes worth a lOQ li? 
May not some great court-lady, as she comes from 
reyeis at midnight, looke out of her coach as 'tis running, 
and loose such a jewell, and we find it P Ha ! 

Syn. They are prettie waking dreams, these. 

Gir. Or may not some olde usurer be drunke over- 
night, with a bagge of money, and leave it behinde him 
on a stall ? For Gkxl sake, Syn, let 's rise to-morrow by 
breake ^ day, and see. I protest, law, if I had as much 
money as an alderman, I would scatter some on 't i' th' 
streetes for poore ladies to finde, when their knights were 
laid up. And, now I remember my song o' the Grolden 
Showre, why may not I have such a fortune P lie sing it, 
and try what luck I shal have after it. 

" Fond fables tell of olde, 

How Jove in Danaes lappe 
Fell in a showre of gold. 

By which shee caught a clappe ; 

O had it beene my hap 
(How ere the blow doth threaten), 

So well I like the play, 

That I could wish all day 
And night to be so beaten." 

Enter Mistresse Touqhstone. 
O hears 's my mother! good lucke, I hope. Ha' you 


84 EASTWARD HOE. [act y. 

brought any money, mother? Pray you, mother, your 
blessing. Nay, sweete mother, do not weepe. 

MkL T, God blesse you 1 I would I were in my 

Gir, Nay, deare mother, can you steale no more money 
from my fieither P Diy your eyes, and comfort me. Alas I 
it is my knights fault, and not mine, that I am in a wast- 
ooate, and attyred thus simply. 

MUt. T, Simply, tis better then thou deserv'st. Never 
whimper for the matter. "Thou shouldst have look't 
before thou hadst leap't." Thou wert afire to be a ladie» 
and now your.ladiship and you may both blowe at the 
cole, for aught I know. " Selfe doe, selfe have." " The 
hastie person never wants woe," they say. 

Oir, Nay, then, mother, you should ha look't to it. A 
bodie would thinke you were the older; I did but my 
kinde ; I, he was a knight, and I was fit to be a ladle. 
Tis not lacke of liking, but lacke of living, that severs us. 
And you talke like your self and a cittiner in this, yfaith. 
You shew what husband you come on, iwis? You smell 
the Touchstone — he that will do more for his daughter 
that he has married a scirvy gold-end man and his pren- 
tise, then he will for his t'other daughter, that has wedded 
a knight and his customer. By this light, I thinke he is 
not my legitimate father 

Syn, O, good madam, doe not take up your mother so ! 

MUt T. Nay, nay, let her eene alone. Let her ladi- 
ship grieve me still, with her bitter taunts and termes. 
I have not dole inough to see her in this miserable case, 
I — ^without her velvet gownes, without ribbands, without 
jewels, without French-wires, or cheat-bread, or quailes, 
or a little dog, or a gentleman usher, or anything indeed 
that 's fit for a lady 

sc. I.] EASTWARD HOE. 85 

SifH. Except her tongue. 

Mist. T. And I not able to relieve her neither, being 
kept so short by my husband. Well, God knowes my 
heart : I did litle tldnke that ever she should have had 
need of her sister Golding I 

Gyr, Why, mother, I ha not yet. Alas I good mother, 
be not intoxicate for me; I am well inough; I would 
not change husbands with my sister ; I, " The legge of a 
larke is better then the body of a kite." 

MUt. T. Know that : but 

Qyr, Whati sweet mother, what ? 

Mut.T. It's but ill food when nothing's left but the 

Qyr. That 's true, mother. Aye me ! 

Mist Touch, Nay, sweet lady-bird, sigh not. Child, 
madame— why do you weepe thus ? Be of good cheere ; 
I shall die if you ciy and mar your complexion thus. 

Oyr, Alas, mother! what should I doP 

Mht. T. Go to thy sister, child ; shee le be prowd thy 
lady-ship wiL come nnder her roof. Shee '1 win thy father 
ta release thy knight, and redeeme thy gownes and thy 
ooach and thy horses, and set thee up againe. 

G^. But will she get him to set my knight up too P 

Mut. T, That she will, or any thing else thou 'It aske 

O^. I wiU begin to love her if I thought she would 
doe this. 

Mist. T. Try her, good chucke ; I warrant thee. 

Gyr. Boost thou thinke shee *le doo *t ? 

Syn, I, madame, and be glad you will receive it. 

MUt, T. That 's a good mayden ; she tells you trew. 
Come, He take order for your debts i' the ale-house. 

86 EASTWARD HOK [act v. 

(jyr. Goe, Syn, aud pray for thy Franck, as I will for 
my Pet. 

Enter Touchstone, Goulding, Woolpe. 

Touch. I will receive no letters, M. Woolfe ; you shall 
pardon me. 

Gou, Good father, let me entreat you P 

Touch* Son Goulding, I wil not be tempted; I find 
mine own easie nature, and I know not what a well-pend 
subtle letter may work upon it; there may be tricks 
packing, do you see ? Beturu with your packet, sir. 

Woo. Beleeve it* sir, you need feare no packing here ; 
these are but letters of submission, all. 

Totich. Sir, I do looke for no submission. I wil beare 
my self in this like Blind Justice. Worke upon that 
now. When the sessions come they shall heare from me. 

Gou, From whom come your letters, M. Wolfe P 

Woo, And 't please you, sir, one from Sir Petronel, ano- 
ther from Fra. Quicksilver, and a third from old Securitie, 
who is almost mad in prison. There are two to your 
worship: one from M. Francis, sir, another from the 

Touch. I doe wonder, M. Woolfe, why you. should 
travaile thus, in a businesse so contrarie to kinde, or the 
nature o' your place: that you, being the keeper of a 
prison, should labour the release of your prisoners: 
whereas me thinks it were farre more naturall and kinddy 
in you to be ranging about for more, and not let these 
scape you have alreadie under the tooth. But they say 
you Wolves, when you ha suck't the blood once, that they 
are drie, you ha done. 

Woo. Sir, your worship may descant as you please o' 

sc. I.] EASTWARD HOE. 87 

my name; but I protest I was never so mortified with any 
mens discourse or behariour in prison ; yet I have had of 
all sorts of men i' the kingdome under my keyes ; and 
almost of all religions i' the land, as Papist, Protestant, 
Pnritane, Brownist, Anabaptist, Millenary, Eamely o' 
Love, Jewe, Turke, Infidell, Atheist, Good Fellow, &c. 

Chu. And which of all these (thinks M. Woolfe) was 
the best religion P 

JFoo. Troth, M. Deputie, they that pay fees best : we 
never examine their consciences farder. 

Gou, I beleeve you, M. Woolfe. Good faith, sir, here 's 
a great deal of humilitie i' these letters ! 

Woo. Humilitie, sir ? I, were your worship an eye- 
witnesse of it you would say so. The knight will i' the 
Knights Ward, doe what we can, sir; and Maister 
Quickesilver would be i' the Hole if we would let him. I 
never knew or saw prisoners more penitent, or more 
devout. They wiU sit you up all night siQging of psabnes 
and sedifying the whole prison; onely Securitie sings a 
note too high sometimes, because hee lyes i' the Twopenny 
Ward, faire off, and cannot take his tune. The neighbors 
camaot rest for him, but come everie morning to aske what 
godly prisoners we have. 

Touch. Which on 'hem is 't is so devout — ^the knight or 
the t'other? 

Woo, Both, sir; but the young man especially. 1 
never heard his like. He has cut his hayre too. He is 
so well given, and has such good gifts, he can tell you 
almost aU the stories of the Booke of Martyrs, and speake 
you all the Sicke-mans Salve without booke. 

Touch. I, if he had had grace — he was brought up 
where it grew, I wis. On, Maister Wolfe. 

88 EASTWARD HOE. [act v. 

Woo, And lie has converted one Fangs, a saijeant, a 
fellow could neither write nor read; he was call'd the 
Bandog o' the Counter ; and he has brought him already 
to pare his nailes and say his prayers ; and 'tis hop'd he 
will sell his place shortly, and become an intelligencer. 

Touch, No more ; I am comming akeady. If I should 
give any farder care I were taken. Adue, good Maister 
Wolfe. Sonne, I doe feele mine ownweakenesses; do not 
importune me. Kty is a rheume that I am subject to ; 
but I will resist it. Maister Wolfe, " Fish is cast away 
that is cast in drye pooles." Tell Hipocrisie it will npt 
doe ; I have touchd and tried too often ; I am yet proofe, 
and I will remaine so : when the sessions come they shall 
heare from me. In the meane time, to all suites, to all 
intreaties, to all letters, to all trickes, I will be deafe as an 
adder, and bUnde as a beetle, laye my eares to the 
ground, and lock mine eyes i' my hand against all tempta- 
tions. {Exit. 

Gou, You see, Maister Woolfe, how inexorable he is. 
There is no hope to recover hkn. Pray you commend me 
to my brother knight, and to my fellow Francis ; present 
'hem with this small token of my love ; tel 'hem, I wish I 
could do 'hem any worthier office ; but in this, iis despe- 
rate : yet I wiU not faile to trie the uttermost of my power 
for 'hem. And sir, ajj farre as I have any credite with 
you, pray you let 'hem want nothing : though I am not 
ambitious they should know so much. 

JFoo, Sir, both your actions and words speake you to 
be a true gentleman. They shall know only what is fit, 
and no more. \Exevnt* 

sc. I.] SASTJTJRD HOE. 89 

Enter Holdfast, Bramble, Ssgubitie. 

HoL Who would you speake with, sir ? 

Bra, I would speak with one Security, that is prisoner 

Hoi, Y' are welcome, sir. Stay there. He call him to 
you. M. Security I 

Sec, Who calls? 

Hoi. Here 's a gentleman would speak with you. 

See, What is hee? Is't one that grafts my forehead 
now I am in prison, and comes to see how the homes 
shoote up and prosper ? 

Hoi, You must pardon him, sir : the olde man is a 
little crazd with his imprisonment. 

Sec, What say you to me, sir ? Looke you here. My 
learned counsaile, M. Bramble ! Cry for merc^, sir I when 
saw you my wife ? 

Bra, She is now at my house, sir, and desir'd mee that 
would come to visite you, and inquire of you your case, that 
wee might worke some meanes to get you forth* 

Sec, My case, M. Bramble, is stone walles and yron 
grates ; you see it, this is the weakest part on 't. And, 
for gettiQg mee forth, no meanes but hang my selfe, and so 
be carried forth, from which they have heere bound me in 
intollerable bands. 

Bra, Why, but what is 't you are in for, sir ? 

Sec. For my sinnes, for my sinnes, sir, whereof marriage 
is the greatest. O, had' I never marryed, I had never 
knowne this purgatory, to which hell is a kinde of ooole 
bath in respect! My wives confederade, sir, with old 
Touchstone, that shee might keepe her jubilee and the 
feast of hei^ new moone 1 Doe you understand me, sir P 

90 EASTJFARD HOE. [act v. 

Enter Quickesilyeb. 

Quick, Good sir, goe in and talke with him. The light 
do's him harme, and his- example will be hnrtfull to the 
weake prisoners. Fie ! father Securitie, that you 'le be 
still so prophane ! will nothing humble you P 

Enter two Prisoners^ with a Eriend, 

Eri. What 'she? 

Fri, 1. O, he is a rare yong man I Doe you not know 

Eri, Not I ; never saw him, I can remember. 

Fri. 2. Why, it is he that was the gallant prentise of 
London — M. Touchstones man. 

Eri. Whop— Quickesilver? 

Fri. 1. I, this is hee. 

Eri. Is this hee ? They say he has beene a gallant 

Fri. 1. O, the royallest fellow that ever was bred up 
i' the City 1 He would play you his thousand pound a 
night at dice ; keepe knights and lords company ; go with 
them tO'baudy-houses ; had his six men in a liverie ; kept 
a stable of hunting horses, and his wench in her velvet 
gowne and her doth of silver. Heres one knight vfiih 
him here in prison. 

IH. And how miserably he has chang'd 1 

Fri. 1. O, that's voluntary in him ; he gave away all 
his rich clothes as soone as ever he came in here, among 
the prisoners ; and wiU eate o' the basket for humilitie. 

Eri. Why, will he doe so? 

Fri. 2. Alas, he has no hope of life 1 He mortifies 
himselfe. He do's but linger on tiU the sessions. 

sc. I.] EASTWARD ROE, 91 

Fri. 2. O, he has pen'd the best thing, that he calls his 
Repentance or hifi Last Fare'toeUy that ever you heard. 
He is a pretie poet ; and for prose — you would wonder 
how many prisoners he has help't out, with penning 
petitions for 'hem, and not take a penny. Looke I this is 
the knight in the rug^e gowne. Stand by. 

Enter Petronel, Bramblb, Quigkesilyeb, Woolfe. 

Bram, Sir, for Securities case, I haye told him. Say 
hee should be condemned to be carted or whipt for a 
bawde, or so, why. Be lay an execution on him o' two 
hundred pound; let him acknowledge a judgement, he 
shall doe it in halfe an houre ; they shall not all fetch him 
out without paying the execution, o^my word. 
Pet, But can we not be bayl'd, M. Bramble P 
Bram. Hardly ; there are none of the judges in towne, 
else you should remove your selfe (in spight of him) with 
a habeas corpus. But if you have a friend to deliver your 
tale sensibly to some justice o' the towne, that hee may 
have feeling of it (doe you see), you may be bayl'd ; for as 
I understand the case, tis onely done in terrorem; and 
you shall have an action of false imprisonment against 
him when you come out, and perhaps a thousand pound 

Enter M. Woolfe. 

Quick, How now, M. WoolfeP — what newes? — ^what 

Woo, Faith, bad all: yonder will be no letters received. 
He sayes the sessions shall determine it. Onely, M. De- 
puty Goulding commends him to you, and with this token, 
wishes he oould doe you other good. 

92 EASTWARD HOE. [act v. 

Quick, I thanke him. Good M. Bramble, trouble our 
quiet no more ; doe not molest us in prison thus, with 
your winding devises ; pray you, depart. For my part, I 
oommit my cause to Him that can succour me ; let God 
worke his will. M. Woolfe, I pray you let this be dis- 
tributed among the prisoners, and desire *hem to pray 
for us. 

Woo. It shall be done,^ M, Francis. 

Pri, 1. An excellent temper 1 

Pri, 2. Now God send him good lucke. \Esceunt. 

Pet, But what said my father-in-law, M. Woolfe ? 

Enter Holdfast. 

Hold, Here 's one would speake with you, sir. 
Woo, He tell you anon, Sir Petronell ; who is *t ? 
Hold, A gentleman, sir, that will not be scene. 

Enter Goulding. 

Woo, Where is he P M. Beputie I your worship is 

Oou, Peace! 

Woo, Away, sirha ! 

Chu, Gt)od faith, M. Woolfe, the estate of these gen- 
tlemen, for whom you were so late and willing a sutor, 
doth much affect me ; and because I am desirous to do 
them some faire office, and find there is no meanes to make 
my father relent so likely as to bring him to be a spectator 
of their misery, I have yentar'd on a device, which is, to 
make my sdfe your prisoner: entreating you will pre- 
sently goe report it to my &ther, and (fayning an action at 
sute of some third person) pray him by tMs token, that he 
will presently, and with all secrede, come hether for my 

sc. I.] SJSTfFJRh HOB. 93 

bayle ; which trayne Ql any) I know will bring him abroad ; 
and then, having him here, I doubt not but we shall be all 
fortunate in the event. 

JToo. Sir, J. will put on my best speed to effect it. 
Please you, come in. 

Crou, Yes ; and let me rest oonoeal'd, I pray you. 

Woo, See here a benefit truely done, when it is done 
timely, freely, and to no ambition. [Exit. 

' Enter Touchstone, W\fe^ Daughters^ Syndbpib, 


Touch. I will sayle by you, and not beare you, like the 
wise Ulysses. 

Ml. Deaxe father! 

MUt.T. Husband! 

Gyr. Father! 

Win. and 8yn. M. Touchstone 1 

Touch. Away, syrens, I will immure my selfe against 
your cryes, and locke my selfe up to our lamentations. 

Mut. T. Gentle husband, heare me ! 

Qyr. Father, it is I, father; my Lady Flash. My 
sister and I am friends. 

Mil. Good father! 

Wm. Be not hardned, good M. Touchstone ! 

8^. I pray you, sir, be mercifull ! 

Touch. lamdeafe; I doe not heare you; I have stopped 
mine cares with shoemakers waxe, and drunke lethe and 
mandragora to forget you. All you speake to me I commit 
to the ayre. 

Enier Woolpe. 
m. How now, M. Woolfe? 

94 EASTWARD HOE. [act v. 

JToo. Where '» M. Touchstone? I must speake with 
him presently ; I have lost my breath for haste. 

Mil, What 's the matter, sir ? Pray all be well. 

Woo. Maister Peputie Goulding is arrested upon an 
execution, and desires him presently to come to him, 

MU. Aye me ! doe you heare, father ? 

Touch, Tricks, tricks, oonfederacie, tricks! I have 
'hem in my nose — ^I sent 'hem ! 

Woo. Who 's that ? Maister Touchstone P 

Mist. T. Why, it is M. Woolfe himselfe, husband. 

Ml. Pather 1 

Touch, I am deafe still, I say. I will neither yeeld to 
the song of the syren nor the voyce of the hyena, the 
teares of the crocadile nor the howling o' the Wolfe. 
Avoid my habitation, monsters ! 

Woo, Why, you are not mad, sir? I pray you lopke 
forth, and see the token I have brought you, sir. 

Touch, Ha ! what token is it ? 

Woo, Doe you know it, sir P 

Touch, My Sonne Grouldings ring ! Are you in earnest, 
M. Wolfe? 

Woo, I, by my faith, sir. He is in prison, and requir'd 
me to use all speed and secrecie to you. 

Touch, My doake, there (pray you be patient). I am 
plagu'd for my austeritie. My cloakel At whose suite, 
Maister Wolfe ? 

Woo, He tell you as we goe, sir. [Exeunt, 

Enter Friend, Prisoners. 

Fri, Why, but is his offence such as he cannot hope of 

sc. I.] EASTWARD HOE. 96 

Pri. 1. Trotli it should seeme so; and 'tis a great pity, 
for lie is exceediagly penitent. 

Fri, They say he is charged but on suspicion of felony 

Pri, 2. I, but his maister is a shrewd fellow ; hee'le 
prove great matter against him. 

Pri, I'de as live as any thing, I could see his Farewell, 

Pri, 1. O, tis rarely written ; why, Tobie may get him 
to sing it to you ; hee 's not curious to any body. 

Pri, 2. O no. He would that all the world should 
take knowledge of his repentance, and thinks he merits 
in 't the more shame he suffers. 

Pri. 1. Pray thee, try what thou canst do. 

Pri, 2. I warrant you, he will not denie it, if hee be 
not hoarce with the often repeating of it. ] [&it. 

Pri. 1. You never saw a more curteous creature then 
he is, and the knight too : the poorest prisoner of the 
house may command 'hem. You shall heare a thing 
admirably pend. 

Fri, Is the knight any schoUer too ? 

Pri, 1. No, but he will speake very well, and discourse 
admirably of running horses and White-Friers, and against 
bauds ; and of cocks ; and talke as loude as a hunter, but 
is none. 

Enter Wolfe and Touchstone. 
'. Please you, stay here ; ile call his worship downe 

to you. 

Pri, 1, See, he has brought him, and the knight too ; 
salute him, I pray. Sir, this gentleman, upon our report, 
is verie desirbus to heare some piece of your E^entance. 

96 EASTWARD HOE, [act v. 

Enier Quicksilvee, Peteonel, ^. 

Qiuick, Sir, with all my heart ; and, as I told M. Tobie, 
I shal be glad to have any man a witnesse of it. And 
the more openly I professe it, I hope it will appeare the 
hartier, and the more unfained. 

Touch. Who is this ? — ^my man Francis, and my sonne- 
in-law ? 

Quick. Sir, it is all the testimonie I shall leave behinde 
me to the world, and my maister that I have so of- 

Friend. Good sir. 

Quick. I writ it when my spirits were opprest. 
Fet. I, ile be swome for you, Francis. 
Quick. It is in imitation of Manningtons, he that was 
hangd at Cambridge, that cut off the horses head at a 

Friend. So, sir. 

Quick. To the tune of " I waile in woe, I plunge in 

Pet. An excellent dittie it is, and worthy of a new 

Quick. " In Cheapside, famous for gold and plate, 
Quicksilver I did dwell of late ; 
I had a maister good and kinde. 
That would have wrought me to his mind. 
He bade me still worke upon that, 
But alas 1 I wrought I know not what. 
He was a Touchstone blacke, but true, 
And told me still what would insue ; 
Yet, woe is me I I would not leame ; 
I saw, alas ! but could not disceme !" 

sc. I.] EASTWABD HOE. 97 

Friend, Excellent, exoeUent well ! 

Chm, O let him alone ; hee is taken alreadie. 

Quick. " I cast my coat and cap away, 
I went in silkes and sattens gay ; 
False mettall of good manners I 
Did dayly ooine nnlawfdlly, 
I scomd my maister, being drunke ; 
I kept my gelding and my punke ; 
And with a knight. Sir Mash by name, 
Who now is sorie for the same." 

Pet. I thanke you, Francis. 

'* I thought by sea to runne away. 
But Thames and tempest did me stay." 

Touch, This cannot be fained, sure. Heayen pardon 
my seyeritie 1 " The ragged colt may proye a good horse." 

Gxm, How he listens, and is transported! He has 
forgot mee. 

Quick, " Still ' Eastward hoe' was all my word : 
But westward I had no regard. 
Nor neyer thought what would come after, 
As did alas I his yongest daughter. 
At last the black oxe trode o' my foote, 
And I saw then what longd untoo't ; 
Now crie I, * Touchstone, touch me still, 
And make me currant by thy skill.' " 

Touch, And I will do it, Francis. 

Woy^, Stay him, M. Deputie ; now is the time : wee 
shall loose the song else. 

Friend, I protest it is the best tliat eyer I heard. 

Quick, How like you it, gentlemen ? 

AU. O admirable, sir ! 

Quick, This stanzeoiow following, alludes to the storie 
III. 7 

98 EJSTWJBD ffOR [act v. 

of Mannington, from whence I tooke my pmject for my 
Friend. Pray you go on, sir. 
Quick. " O Mannington, tliy denies show, 

Thou cat»t a kor8e4iead off at a blow 1 
But I confeftse, I hate not the force 
For to cut off the head of a horse ; 
Yet I desire this grace to wione. 
That I may cut off the horse-head of Sin, 
And leave hils bodie in the dust 
Of sinnes highway and bogges of lust. 
Whereby I may take Yertues purse. 
And live with her for better for worse.'' 
JWr. Admirable, sir, and excellently conceited. 
Qmck. Alas, sir! 

Touch. Sonne Goulding and M. Wolfe, I thank you : 
the deceipt is welcome, especially from thee, whose cha- 
ritable soule in this hath shewne a high point of wisdome 
and honestie. listen, I am ravished with his repentance, 
and could stand here a whole prentisldp to heare him. 
Friend, Forth, good sir. 
Quick. I^his is the last, and the FareweU. 
" Farewell, Cheapside, farewell, sweet trade 
Of goldsmithes all, that never shall fade ; 
Farewell, deare fellow prentises all. 
And be you warned by my fall : 
Shun usurers, bauds, and dice, and drabs, 
Avoid them as you would French scabs. 
Seeke not to goe beyond your tether. 
But cut your thongs unto your lether ; 
So shall you thrive by little and Httle, 
Scape Tibome, Counters, and the Spittle !" 

sc. I,] EASTWARD HOE. 99 

Touch. An scape them shalt thon, my penitent and 
deare Francis ! 

Quick, Maister ! 

Pet. Father! 

Touch. I can no longer forbeare to do your hmuilitie 
right. Arise, and let me honour your repentance uith 
the heartie and joyfull embraces of a father and friends 
love. Quickesilver, thou hast eate into my breast, Quicke- 
silver, with the droppes of thy sorrow, and kild the despe- 
rate opinion I had of thy redaime. 

Quick. O, sir, I am not worthie to see your worshipfull 

Fet. Forgive me, father. 

Toueh. Speake no more ; all former passages are for- 
gotten; and here my word shaU release you. Thanke 
this worthie brother and kind Mend, Francis. — M. Wolfe, 
I am their baile. \A ahoujte in the prison. 

Sec. Maister Touchstone ! Maister Touchstone 1 

Ibuch. Who's that? 

JFolf. Securitie, sir. 

Sec. Pray you, sir, if youle be wonne with a song, lieare 
my lamentable tune, too. 


" O Maister Touchstone, 

My heart is fall of woe ; 
Alas, I am a cuckold ! 

And why should it be so 2 
Because I was a usurer 

And bawd, as all you know, 
For which, againe I tell you. 

My heart is full of woe." 

Touch. Bring him foorth, M. Wolfe, and release his 

100 EASTJFARB HOE. [act v. 

bands. This day shall be sacred to Mercie, and the mirth 
of this encounter in the Counter. See, we are encountred 
with more suters ! 

Enter Mktresse Touchstone, Gietred, Mildeed, 
Syndefie, Winnipeid, ^c. 

Save your breath, save your breath! All .things have 
succeeded to your wishes ; and we are heartily satisfied in 
their events. 

Oyr, Ah, runaway, runaway! have I caught you? 
And how has my poore knight done all this while ? 
Fet, Dear lady wife, forgive me ! 

Qyr, As heartily as I would be forgiven, knight. Deare 
father, give me your blessing, and forgive me too ; I ha' 
bin prowd and lascivious, father ; and a foole, father ; 
and being raisd to the state of a wanton coy thing, calld a 
lady, father, have scomd you, father, and my sister, and 
my sisters velvet cap too ; and woulde make a mouth at 
the Citty as I rid through it ; and stop mine eares at Bow 
beU. I have saide your bearde was a base one, father ; 
and that you lookt like Twierpipe the taberer ; and that 
my mother was but my midwife. 

Mist, T. Now, God forgi' you, child madam ! 

Touch, No more repetitions. What is else wanting to 
make our harmony full? 

Gau, Only this, sir, that my fellow Francis make 
amends to Mistresse Sindefie with marriage. 

Quick, With all my heart 1 

Gou, And Securitie give her a dower, which shall be 
all the restitution he shal make of that huge masse he 
hath so unlawfully gotten. 

Touch, Excellently devisd ! a good motion! What 
saies M. Security ? 

sc. I.] EASTWARI) HOS. 101 

Sec. I say anything, sir, what you'll ha me say. 
Would I were no cuckold ! 

Win. Cuckold, husband P Why, I thinke this wearing 
of yellow has infected you. 

Touch. Why, M. Securitie, that should rafher be a 
comfort to you then a corasive. K you be a cuckold, 
it's an argument you have a beautifiill woman to your 
wife; then you shall be much made of; you shall have 
store of friends, never want money ; you shall be easd of 
much o' your wedlodce paine ; others will take it for you. 
Besides, you being a usurer (and likely to goe to hell), 
thediyels will never torment you: they '11 take you for 
one of their owne race* Againe, if you be a cuckold, 
and know it not, you are an innocent ; if you know it 
and indure it, a true martyr. 

Sec. I am resolv'd, sir. Come hither, Winny, 

Touch. Well, then, all are pleased, or shall be anone. 
Maister Wolfe, you looke hungrie, me thinke ; have you 
no apparell to lend Francis to shift him ? 

Q^ick. No, sir, nor I desire none ; but here make it 
my suite, that I may goe home through the streetes in 
these, as a spectacle, or rather an example to the children 
of Cheapside. 

Touch. Thou hast thy wish. Now, London, looke 
And in this morall see thy glasse ranne out : 
Behold the carefiiU father, thrifty sonne. 
The solemne deeds which each of lis have done : 
The usurer punisht, and from fall to steepe 
The prodigall child redaimd, and the lost sheepe ! 


STAY, sir, I perceive the multitude are gatherd to- 
gether to view our comming out at the Counter. 
See, if the streetes and the fronts of the houses be not 
stuoke with people, and the windowes fill'd with ladies, 
as on the solemne day of the Pageant ! 
O may you finde in this our pageant, heere, 

The same contentment which you came to sceke ; 
And as that shew but drawes you once a yeare, 
May this attract you hither once a weeke ! 





■ « tm i- 


The CountesH of Swetia discovered sitting at a table 
covered with blacke, on which stands two black tapers 
Ughtedy she in mourning. 

JEnief Eobebto Count qf Cypres, Guibo Count o/Jrsena^ 
and Si(fnior Mizaldus, 

-2^* b^^mISK hat should we doe in this countesses 
darke hole P 

She 's sullenly retyred as the turtle. 

Every day has t)eene a blacke day with 
her since her husband dyed ; and what should we unruly 
members make here P 

Qui, As melancholy night masques up heavens face» 
So doth the evening starre present herselfe 
Unto the carefiill shepheards gladsome eyes, 
By which unto the folde he leades his flocke. 

306 INSATIATE C0VNTE88E. [act i. 

Miz. Zounds 1 what a sheepisli begiiming is kere? 
"Us said true, Love is simple ; «Qd it may well hold; and 
thou art a simple lover. 

Hob, See how yond starre, like beauty in a cloud. 
Illumines darknesse, and beguiles the moone 
Of all her glory in the firmament. 

Wa, Well said, man i' the moone. Was ever such 
astronomers ? Marry, I feare none of these will fall into 
the right ditch. 

Rob, Madame. 

Ckmnt. Ha, Anna I what, are my doores unbarr'd? 

Miz, lie assure you the way into your.ladiship is open. 

Bob, And God defend that any prophane hand 
Should offer sacriledge to such a saint ! 
Lovely Isabella, by this dutious kisse, 
That drawes part of my soule along with it, 
Had I but thought my rude intrusion 
Had wak'd the dove-like spleene harbour'd within you. 
Life and my first-borne should not satisfie 
Such a transgression, worthy of a ebeofce ; 
But that immortals wjndce at my offence. 
Makes me presume more boldly. I am come 
To raise you from this so infemall sadnesse. 

Ua. My lord of Cypres, doc not modce my grefe. 
Teares are as due as tribute to the dead. 
As feare to God, and duty unto kings. 
Love to just, or hate unto the wicked. 

Rob, Surcease; 
Beleeve it is a wrong unto the gods. 
They saile against the winde that waOe the deade. 
And since his heart hath wrestled with deaths pangs. 
From whose steme cave none tracts a backward path, 


Leave to lament this neoesBory change, 

And thanke the gods, for they can give as good. 

Isa. I waile his lossel Sinke him tenne oobites 
I may not feare his resurrection. 
I will be swome upon the holy writ, 
I mome thus fervent cause he di'd no sooner : 
Hee buried me alive. 
And mued mee up like Cretan Dedalus, 
And with wall-ey'd jelbusie kept me from hope 
Of any waxen wings to flye to pleasure ; 
But now his souk her Argos eyes hath dos'd. 
And I am free as ayre. You of my sexe. 
In the first flow of youth, use you the sweets 
Due to your proper beauties, era the ebbe 
And long wain of unweleome change shall come. 
Faure women, ph&y ; she 's chaste whom none will have. 
Here is a man of a most milde aspect, 
Temperate, effeminate, and worthy love ; 
One that with burning ardor hath pursued me. 
A donative he hath of every god : 
Apollo gave him lockes ; Jove his high front ; 
The god of eloquence his flowing speech ; 
The feminine deities strowed all their bounties 
And beautie on his face ; that eye was Juno's ; 
Those lips were his that wonne the golden ball ; 
That virgin-blush, Diana's. Here they meets, 
As in a sacred synod. My brds, I must intreate 
A while your wisht forbearance. 

Omnea, We pbey you, lady. 

[Mb. Guido and Mizaldus, num. Eoberto. 

Isa. My lord, with you I have some conference. 

108 INSATIATE C0UNTES8E. [act i. 

I pray, my lord, doe you woo every lady 
In this phrase you doe me ? 

Bob. Fairest, till now 
Love was an infant in my oratory. 

J«a. And kisse thus too P 

Bob. I ne'er was so kist ; leave thus to please, 
Flames into flames, seas thou powrest into seas ! 

Isa. Pray frowne, my lord : let me see how many wives 
You 'U have. Heigh ho! you'll bury me, I see 

Bob, In the swans downe, and tombe thee in mine 

Isa, Then folkes shall pray in vaine to send me rest* 
Away, you 're such another medling lord 1 

Bob, By heaven! my love 's as chaste as thou art faire. 
And both exceede comparison. By this kisse^ 
That crownes me monarch of another world 
Superiour to the first, fSedre, thou shalt see 
As unto heaven my love, so unto thee ! 

Isa, Alas! poore creatures, when we are once o' the 
idling hand, 
A man may easily cqme over us. 
It is as hard for us to hide our love 
As to shut sinne from the Creators eyes. 
I faith, my lord, I had a months minde unto yoU| 
As tedious as a fuU ri'dd maiden-head ; 
And, Count of Cypers, thinke my love as pure ^ 
As the first opening of the bloomes in May ; 
Your vertues may ; nay, let me not blush to say so : 
And see for your sake thus I leave to sorrow. 
Beginne this subtile conjuration with mee. 
And as this taper, due unto the dead, 
I here extingoish, so my late dead lord 


I put out ever from my memory, 

That his remembrance may not wrong our love, 

[Puts out the taper. 
As bold-fac'd women, when they wed another. 
Banquet their husbands with their dead loves heads. 

Roh, And as I sacrifice this to his ghost, 
With this expire all corrupt thoughts of youth. 
That £ame-insatiate divell jealousie. 
And all the sparkes that may bring unto flame. 
Hate betwizt man and wife, or breed defame. 

Enter Mizaldus and Mendosa. 

6ui. Mary, amen 1 I say, madame, are you that were 
in for all day, now come to be in for all night ? How 
now. Count Arsena ? 

Miz. Faith, signior, not unlike the condemned malefac- 
That heares his judgement openly pronounced ; 
But I ascribe to fate. Joy swell your love ; 
Cypres and willow grace my drooping crest. 

Bob. We doe entend our hymeneall rights 
With the next rising sunne. Count Cypres, 
Next to our bride, the welcomst to our feast. 

Ckmnt A. Sancta Mario,! what thinkst thou of this 
A players passion ile beleeve hereafter. 
And in a tragicke sceane weepe for olde Pnam, 
When fell revenging Pirrhus with supposde 
And artiflciall wounds mangles his breast. 
And thinke it a more worthy act to me. 
Then trust a female mourning ore her love : 


Naught that is done of woimui shall me please, 
Natures step-children rather than her desire. 
Miz. Leame of a well-composed epigram, 
A womans love, and thus 'twas sung unto us : 
The tapers that stood on her husband's hearse, 
Isabell advances to a second bed : 
Is it not wondrous strange for to rehearse 
Shee should so soone forget her husband, dead 
One houreP for if the husband's life once fieuie. 
Both love and husband in one grave are laid. 
But we forget ourselves : I am for the marriage 
Of Signior Claridiana and the fine Mris. Abigail. 

Count A. I for his arch-foes wedding, Signior Bogero, 
and the spruce Mris. Thais : but see, the solemne rites are 
ended, and from their severaU temples they are come. 
Miz. A quarell, on my life ! 

Emter at one doore Signior Clabidiana, Abigal his 
wtfe ; the Lady Lentulus, wUh rosemary y as from 
church. At the other doore Signior Bogeko and 
Thais his wife, Mendosa Fosca&ii, Nephew to the 
Duke, from the Bridal; they see one -another, and 
draw, Count Absena and others step betweene them. 

Glar, Good, my lord, detaine me not ; I will tilt at him. 

Rog. Bemember, sir, this is your wedding day. 
And that triumph belongs onely to your wife. 

Bog, If you be noble, let me cut off his head. 

Clar. Bemember, o' the other side, you have a maiden- 
head of your owne to cut off. 

Bog, He make my marriage day like to the bloudy bridal 
Alcides by the fierie Centaurs had ! 

Tha. Husband, deare husband 1 


Itog. Away with these catterwallers ! 
Come on, sdr. 

Clar. Thott sonne of a Jew 1 

€ru%. Alas, poore wench, thy husband's drcumcis'd ! 

Clar, Begot when thy father's face was toward th' east, 
To shew that thon would'st prorea caterpiller. 
His Messiaa, shall not save thee from me ; 
lie send thee to him in coUops ! 

Count A, O fify not in choler so, sir ! 

Bjog, Moimtebancke, with thy pendanticall action — 
Rmiatrix, Boglors, Bhimocers ! 

Men, Gentlemen, I conjure you 
By l^e vertues of men I 

Bog. Shall my broken quacksalvers bastard oppose him 
to mee in my nuptials P No ; but He show him better 
mettal then ere the gaUemawfi^y his father used. Thou 
scumme of his melting-pots, that wert christned in a 
emsoile with Mercuries water, shew thou wouldest 
prove a stinging aspis ! for all thou spitst is aqua fortis, 
and thy breath is a compound of poysons stillatory : if I 
get within thee, hadst thou the scaly hyde of a crocodile, 
^Ls thou art partly of his nature, I would leave thee as bare 
as an anatomy at the scconde veiwing. 
- Qlar. Thou Jew of the tribe of Gad ! that I were sure 
were there none here but thou and I, wouldst teach mee 
the art of breathing, and wouldst runne like a dromidarie ! 

Bjog, Thou that alrt the tal'st man of Christendome 
when thou art alone, if thou dost maintaine this to my 
face, He make the skip on ounce. 

Mm. Nay, good sir, be you still. 

Bjog. Let the quacksalvers sonne be still : 
His father was still, and still, and still againe ! 

112 INSATIATE C0UNTB88E. [act i. 

Clar. By the Almighty, lie study negromancy but He 
be reveng'd ! 

■ Count A. Gentlemen, leave these dissentions ; 
Signior Eogero, you are a man o? worth. 

Clar. True, all the citie poibts at him for a knave. 

Count A. You are of like reputation, Signior Claridiana; 
The hatred twixt your grandsires first beganne. 
Impute it to the folly of that age. 
These your dissentions may erect a faction 
Like to the Capulets and the Montagues. 

Men. Put it to equall arbitration, choose your Mends ; 
The senators will thinke 'em happy in 't. 

Miz. He ne're embrace the smoake. of a furnace, the 
quintessence of minerall or simples, or, as I may say more 
learnedly, nor the spirit of quicksilver. 

Cla. Nor I, such a Centaure, — ^halfe a man, half an 
asse, and all a Jew! 

Count A. Nay, then, we will be constables, and force a 
quiet. Gentlemen, keepe 'em asunder, and helpe to per- 
suade 'em. 

Men. Well, ladies, your husbands behave 'em as lustily 
on their wedding-dayes as e're I heard any. Nay, lady- 
widow, you and I must have a falling ; you 're of Signior 
Mizaldus faction, and I am your vowed enemy, from the 
bodkin to the pincase. Hearke in your eare. 

Ahi. Well, Thais. O ! you 're a cunning carver ; we 
two, that any time these fourteene yeeres have called sisters, 
brought and bred up together, that have told one another 
all our wanton dreames, talk't all night-long of yong men, 
and spent many an idle houre, fasted upon the stones on 
S. Agnes night together, practised all the petulant amor- 
ousnesses that delight young maides, yet have you con- 


oeal'd not onely the marriage, but the man : and well you 
might deceiye me, for i'le be swome you never dream'd of 
him, and it stands against all reason you should enjoy him 
you never dream'd of. 

Tha, Is not all this the same in you ? Did you ever 
manifest your sweet-hearts nose, that I might nose him 
by 't ? commended his caife, or his nether lip P apparant 
signes that you were not in love, or wisely covered it. 
Have you ever said, such a man goes upright, or has a 
better gate then any of the rest, as indeed since he is 
prooved a magnifloo. I thought thou would'st have put 
it into my hands what ere 't had beene. 

Ahi. WeU, wench, we have crosse fates ; our husbands 
such inveterate foes, and we such entire Mends ; but the 
best is wee are neighbours, and our backe-arbors may 
afford visitation freely. Prethee, let us maintaine our 
familiarity still, whatsoever thy husband doe unto thee, as 
I am afraid he will crosse it i' the nicke. 

Tha. Eaith, you little one, if I please him in one 
thing, hee shall please me in all, that 's certaine. Who 
shall I have to keep my counsell if I misse thee? who 
shall teach me to use the bridle when the reynes are in 
mine own hand ? what to long for, when to take phisicke ? 
where to be melancholy ? Why, we two are one anothers 
grounds, without which would be no musick. 

Abi. Well said, wench; and the pricke-song we use 
shall be our husbands. / 

Tha, I will long for swines-fiesh o' the first childe. 

Ahi, Wilt 'ou, little Jew ? And I to kisse thy husband 
upon the least belly-ake. This will mad 'em. 

Tha, I kisse thee, wench, for that, and with it confirme 
our friendship. - 

III. 8 

lU INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act r. 

Mm, By these sweete lips, widdow ! 

Lady L, Grood, my lord, leame to sweare by rote, 
Your birth and fortune makes my braine suppose 
That, like a man heated with wines and lust, 
Shee that is next your object is your mate. 
Till the foule water have quencht out the fire. 
You, the dukes kinsman, tell me I am young, 
Faire, rich, and vertuous. I my selfe will flatter 
My selfe, till you are gone, that are more faire. 
More rich, more vertuous, and more debonaire : 
All which are ladders to an higher reach. 
Who drinkes a puddle that may tast a spring ? 
Who kiss a subject that may hugge a king ? 

Mm, Yes, the camell alwayes drinkes in puddle-water ; 
And as for huggings, reade antiquities. 
Eaith, madam. He boord thee one of these dayes. 

Lady L, I, butne'rebedmee,mylord. Myvowisfinne 
Since God hath called me to this noble state. 
Much to my greefe, of vertuous widdow-hood. 
No man shall ever come within my gates. 

Mm. Wat thou ram up thy porch-hold ? O widdow, 
I perceive 
You 're ignorant of the lovers legerdemaine ! 
There is a fellow that by magicke will assist 
To murder princes invisible ; I can command his spirit. 
Or what say you to a fine scaling-ladder of ropes ? 
I can tell you I am a mad wag-halter ; 
But by the vertue I see seated in you. 
And by the worthy fame is blazond of you ; 
By littie Cupid, that is mighty nam'd. 
And can command my looser follies downe, 
I love, and must enjoy, yet with such limits 


As one tbat knowes infbroed marriage 
To be the Fanes sister ! THinke of me ! 

Amho, Ha, ha, ha I 

Men. How now, kdy P does the toy take yoa» as they 

AU, No, my lord ; nor doe we take your toy, as they 
This is a childes birth that must not be delivered before a 

Though your lordship might be a midwife for your chinne. 

Men. Some bawdy riddle, is 't not P You long til 't by 

Tha. No, my lord, womens longing comes after their 
marriage night. Sister, see you be constant now. 

AU, Why, dost thinke He make my husband a cuckold P 
O, here they come ! 

Enter at severalldooreaCountARSiiVA with Claeidiana; 
GuiDO, with EoGEEO, at another doore ; Mendosa 
meetes them. 

Men. Signior Rogero, are you yet qualified ? 

Boff. Yes ; does any man thinke ile goe like a sheepe to 
the slaughter ? Hands off, my lord ; your lordship may 
chance come under my hands. If you doe, I shall shew 
my selfe a citizen, and revenge basely. 

Cla. I thinke, if I were receiving the Holy Sacrament, 
His sight would make me gnash my teeth terribly. 
But there 's the beauty without paralell, [To Abigail. 

In whom the Graces and the Vertues meete 1 
In her aspect milde Honour sits and smiles ; 
And who lookes there, were it the savage beare, 
But would derive new nature from her eyes. 

116 INSATIATE C0UNTE8SK [aqt i. 

Bat to be reconcil'd simply for him, 

Were mankinde to be lost againe, I'de let it. 

And a new heape of stones sbonld stocke the world. 

In heaven and earth this power beauty hath — 

It inflames temperance, and temp'rates wrath. 

What ere thou art, mine art thou, wise or chaste ; 

I shall set hard upon thy marriage-vow. 

And write revenge high in thy husband's brow 

In a strange character. You may beginne, sir. 

Men, Signior Claridiana, I hope Signior Bogero 
Thus employed me about a good office — 
T were worthy Ciceroes tongue, a famous oration now ; 
But friendship, that is mutually embraced of the gods. 
And is Joves usher to each sacred synod, 
Without the which he could not reigne in heaven, 
That over-goes my admiration, shall not under-go my 

censure : 
These hot flames of rage, that else will be 
As fire mid'st your nuptiall jolitie. 
Burning the edge off to the present joy. 
And keepe you wake to terror. 

Cla. I have not yet swallowed the rhimatrix, nor the 
Onocentaure — ^the rhinoceros was monstrous ! 

Count A, Sir, be you of the most flexible nature, and 
oonfesse an error. 

Cla, I must — ^the gods of love command. 
And that bright starre, her eye, that guides my fate. 
Siguier Bogero, joy, then, Signior Bogero ! 

Bog. Signior, sir ? divell I 

Tha, Good husband, shew yourselfe a temperate man ! 
Your mother was a woman, I dare sweare — 
Noe tyger got you, nor noe beare was rivall 


In your conception— you seeme like the issue 
I The paintert Jinune leaping from Enyies mouth. 
That devoures all hee meetes. 

%. Had the last, or the least syllable 
Of this more then immortall eloquence 
Conunenc'd to me when rage had beene so high 
Within my bloud, that it ore-topt my soule, 
Like to the lyon when he heares the sound 
Of Kan's bowstring in some shady wood, 
I should have couch't my lowly limbe on earth. 
And held my silence a proud sacrifice. 

Ola, Slave, I will fight with thee at any odds ; 
Or name an instrument fit for destruction, 
^t ne're was made to make away a man. 
He meete thee on the ridges of the Alpes, 
Or some inhospitable wildemesse. 
Stark-naked, at push of pike, or keene curtl-axe, 
At Turkish sickle, Babylonian saw. 
The ancient hookes of great Cadwalleder, 
Or any other heathen invention ! 
T%a, O, God blesse the man ! 
Len, Counsell him, good my lord ! 
Mm, Our tongues are weary, and he desperate. 
He does refuse to heare. What shall we doe ? 

da, I am not mad — I can heare, I can see, I can 
JBat a wise rage man, wrongs past compare. 
Should be weU nourisht as his vertues are. 
I 'de have it knowne unto each valiant spirit, 
He wrongs no man that to himselfe does right. 
Catzo, I had one ; Signior Bogero, I had one 1 

Count A. By Heaven ! this voluntary reconciliation, made 

118 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E, [act i. 

Freely and of it selfe, argoes unfaign'd 

And yertuouB knot of love. Soe, sirs, embrace ! 

Rog, Sir, by the conscience of a Catholike man, 
And by our mother Chnrch, that bindes 
And doth attone, in amitie with God, 
The sonles of men, that they with men be one, 
1 tread into the center all the thoughts 
Of ill in mee toward you, and memory 
Of what from you might ought disparage mee ; 
Wishing unfaignedly it may sinke low, 
And, as untimely births, want power to grow. 

Mm, Christianly said ! Signior, what would you have 

Cla. And so 1 sweare. You're honest, Onocentaure! 

Count A, Nay, see now ! Fie upon your turbulent spirit ! 
Did he doo 't in this forme P 

Cla, If you thinke not this sufficient, you shall com- 
mand me to be reconciled in another forme — ^as a rhimatrix 
or a rhinoceros. 

Men. 'Sblood! what will you doe F 

Cla, Well, give me your hands first : I am Mends with 
you, i'faith. Thereupon I embrace you. Kisse your wife, 
and God give us joy ! [To Thais. 

Tha, You meane me and my husband ? 

Cla, You take the meaning better then the speech, lady. 

Bog. The like wish I, but ne'er can be the like. 
And therefore wish I thee. 

Cla, By this bright light, that is deriv'd from thee 

Tha. So, sir, you make mee a very light creature I 

Cla. But that thou art a blessed angeJl, sent 
Downe from the gods t' attone mortall men, 
1 would have thought deedes beyond aU mens thoughts. 


And executed more upon bis corps. 

Oh, let him thanke the beautie of ibis eye, 

And not bis resolute swords or destiniel 

CknaU A, What sayst thou, Mizaldus ? Come, applaud 
this jubile — 
A day these hundred yeeres before not truely knowne 
To these divided factions. 

Cla. No, nor this day, had it been fiolsdy borne. 
But that I meane to sound it with his home. 

Mk. I bk'd the former jarre better. Then they shewd 
like men and soldiers, now like cowards and leachers. 

Count A, Well said, Mizaldus ; thou art like the base 
vioU in a consort — let the other instruments wish and de- 
light in your highest sence, thou ait still grumbling. 

Cla, Nay, sweete, receiye it, [Gives it Abigail. 

And in it my heart : 

And when thou read'st a mooving syllable, 
Thinke that my soule was secretary to't. 
It is your love, and not the odious wish 
Of my revenge, in stiling him a cuckold. 
Makes me presume thus farre. Then read it, faire, 
My passion's ample, as our beauties are. 

Abi, Well, sir, we will not sticke with you. 

Count A, And, gentlemen, since it hath hapt so for- 
I doe entreat we may all meete to-morrow 
In some heroick masque, to grace the nuptials 
Of the most noble Countesse of Swevia. 

Men, Who does the young count marry ? 

Count A, O sir, who but the very heire of all her sexe, 
That beares the palme of beauty from '^em all : 
Others, compar'd to her, shew like famt starres 

120 INSATIATE C0UNTE8SE. [act i. 

To the full moone of wonder in her face : — 

The Lady Isabella, the late widdow 

To the deceast and noble Vicount Hermus. 

Men, Law you there, widow, there 's one of the last 
edition, * 
Whose husband yet retaines in his cold trunke 
Some little ayring of his noble guest, 
Yet she a fresh bride as the moneth o£May. 

Len. Well, my lord, I am none of these 
That have my second husband bespoke ; 
My doore shall be a testimony of it ; 
And but these noble marriages encite me. 
My much abstracted presence should have shew'd it. 
If you come to me, hearke in your eare, my lord, 
Looke your ladder of ropes be strong, 
. For I shall tie you to your tackling. 

Count A. Gentlemen, your answer to the masque. 

Omnes. Your honour leades : wee '1 follow. 

Bog, Signior Claridiana. 

Cla, I attend you, sir. \_Exeunt omnea. 

Abu You'l be constant? [Manet Claridiana. 

Cla. Above the adamant; the goates bloud shall not 
breake me. 
Yet shallow fooles and plainer morall men. 
That understand not what they undertake, 
Fall in their owne snares, or come short of vengeance. 
No ; let the sunne view with an open face. 
And afterward shrinke in his blushing cheekes, 
Asham'd and cursing of the fixt decree. 
That makes his light bawd to the crimes of men. 
When I have ended what I now devise. 
ApoUoes orade shall sweare me wise, 


Strumpet his wife, branch my false-seeming friend. 

And make him foster what my hate begot — 

A bastard, that when age and sicknesse seaze him. 

Shall be a corsive to his griping heart. 

He write to her, for what her modesty 

WiU not permit, nor my adulterate forcing. 

That bnshlesse herald shall not feare to tell. 

Bogero shall know yet that his foe 's a man. 

And, what is more, a true Italian ! [Exit. 

122 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act ii. 


Enter Eobebto, Lord Cardinally Isabella, Lady Len- 
TULUS, Abigail, and Thais. Lights, 

Bob, y i^SBi b[^ grave Lord Cardinal!, we congratulate. 
And zealously doe entertaine your love. 
That from your liigh and divine con- 

You have vouchsafd to consummate a day 
Due to our nuptials. O, may this knot you knit — 
This individual Gordian grasp of hands, 
In sight of God soe fairely intermixt — 
Never be sever'd, as Heaven smiles at it. 
By all the darts shot by infemall Jove I 
Angeb of grace. Amen, Amen, say to 't! 
Fair lady-mdow, and my worthy mistresse. 
Doe you keep silence for a wager ? 

Tha, Doe yon aske a woman that question, my lord. 
When shee inforcedly pursues what she 's forbidden ? 
I thinke, if I had beene tyed to silence, 
I should have beene worthy the cucking-stoole ere this time. 

Bob, You shall not be my orator, lady, that pleades thu§ ,, 
for your selfe. , ) h 

Ter, My lord, the masquers are at hand. ^ / i 

Bob, Give them kinde entertainement. Some worthy .^ 
Mends of mine, my lord, unknowne to mee, to lavish of 
their loves, bring their owne welcome in a solemne masque. 


AU, I am glad there 's noblemen in the masque. 
With our husbands to over-rule them, 
They had sham'd us else. 

Tha, Why? for why, I pray? 

Abi, Why P — many, they had come in with some city 
shew else ; hired a few tincell coates at the vizard makers, 
which would ha' made them looke for all the world like 
bakers in their linnen bases and mealy vizards, new come 
from boulting. I saw a shew once at the marriage of 
Magnifeceros daughter, presented by Time, which Time 
was an old bald thing, a servant : 'twas the best man ; he 
was a dier, and came in likenesse of the rainebow, in all 
manner of colours, to shew his art ; but the rainebow smelt 
of urin, so we were all aflEraid the property was changed, 
and lookt for a shower. Then came in after him, one that, 
it seem'd, feared no coUours — a grocer that had trim'd up 
himselfe hansomly : hee was justice, and shew'd reasons 
why. And I thinke this grocer — I meane this justice — 
had borrowed a weather-beaten ballance from some justice 
of a conduit, both which scales were jeplSnisht with the 
choice of his ware. And the more liberally to shew his 
nature, he gave every woman in the roome her handfull. 

Tka, great act of justice I Well, and my husband 
come deandy of with this, he shall neere betray his weak- 
nesse more, but confesse himselfe a cittizen hereafter, and 
acknowledge their wit, for alas ! they come short. 

Enter in the Maaque, the Count of Aesena, Menposa, 
Claridiana, Torch-hearers. They deliver their shields 
to their severall mistresses — that is to say, Mendosa 
to the Lady Lentulus, Claridiana to Abigail ; to Isa- 
bella, Guido Count of Arsena ; to Thais, Kogero. 

Isa, Good, my lord, be my expositer, \To the Cardinall. 

124 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E, [act ii. 

Car, The smme setting, a man pointing at it. 
The motto, Senso tamen ipso calarem, 
Faire bride, some servant of yours, that here imitates 
To have felt the heate of love bred in your brightnesse. 
But setting tlius from him, by marriage. 
He onely here acknowledgeth your power ; 
And I must expect beames of a morrow-sunne. 

Len, Lord Bridegroome, will you interpret me ? 

Bob, A sable shield : the word. Vidua spea. 
What — ^the forlome hope, in blacke, despairing? 
Lady Lentulus, is this the badge of aU your suitors ? 

Len, I, by my troth, my lord, if they come to me. 

Bob. I could give it another interpretation. Me thinkes 
this lover has leam'd of women to deale by contraries ; if 
so, then here he sayes, the widdow is his ondy hope. 

Zen, No ; good my lord, let the first stand. 

Bob, Inquire oi him, and hee '1 resolve the doubt. 

A6i. What 's here ? — a ship sailing nigh her haven ? 
With good ware belike : tis well ballast. 

Tha, 01 this your device smells of the merchant. 
What 's your ships name, I pray P The Forlorne Hope ? 

Abi, Noe ; The Merchant Eoyall. 

Tha. And why not Adventurer? 

Abi. You see no likelyhood of that : would it not faine 
be in the haven ? The word, Ut tangerem portum. Marry, 
for ought I know ; God grant it. What 's there ? 

Tha, Mine's an azure shield: many, what else? I 
should tell thee more then I understand ; but the word is, 
Autprecio, autprecibus. 

Abi, I, I, some common- coimsell device. 

[They take the women, and dance the first change. 

Men. Faire widow, how like you this change P 

act;ii.] insatiate C0UNTE88E. 125 

Len. I chang'd too lately to like any. 

Men, O, your husband ! you weare his memory like a 

For Heavens love, thinke of me as of the man 
Whose dancing dayei you see are not yet done. 

Len, Yet you sinke a pace, sir. 

Men. The fault 's in my upholsterer, lady. 

Eog, Thou shalt as soone finde truth telling a lye, 
Vertue a bawd, Honesty a courtier, 
As me tum'd recreant to thy least designe. 
Love makes me speake, and hee makes love divine. 

Tha, Would Love could make you so ! but 'tis his guise 
To let us surfeit ere he ope' our eyes. 

{Holding her hy the hand. 

AhL Ton grasp my hand to hard, i'faith, faire sir. 

Cla. Not as you grasp my heart, unwilling wanton. 
Were but my breast bare, and anatomized. 
Thou shouldst behold there how thow tortur'st it ; 
And as ApeUes limm 'd the Queene of Love, 
In her right hand grasping a heart in flames. 
So may I thee, fayrer,, but crueller. 

AH. Well, sir, your vizor gives you colour for what 
you say. 

Cla. Grace me to weare this favour ; 'tis a gemme 
That vailes to yur eyes, though not to th' eagles. 
And in exchange give me one word of comfort. 
• Ahi. I, marry ; I like this woer well : 
Hee '1 win's pleasure out o' the stones. 

[The second change, Isabella /a^& in love with Rogero 
when the changers speak, 

laa. Change is no robbery ; yet in this change 
Thou rob'st me of my heart. Sure Cupid 's here, 

126 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act ii. 

Disguis'd like a pretty torch-bearer. 

And makes his brand a torch, that with more sleight 

He may intrap weake women. Here the sparkes 

My, as in ^tna, from his fathers anvile. 

O, powerfull boy ! my heart 's on fire, and unto mine eyes 

The raging flames ascend like to two beacons. 

Summoning my strongest powers ; but all too late ; 

The conquerour already ope's the gate. 

I will not aske his name. 

Abi. You dare put it into my hands. 

Men, Doe you thinke I wiU not ? 

Abi, Then thus : to-morrow (you'll be secret, servant)- 

Men, All that I doe. He doe in secret. 

Abi, My husband goes to Mucave to renew the farme 
he has. 

Men, Well, what time goes the jakes-farmer ? 

Abi, He shall not be long out, bul» you shall put in, 
I warrant you. Have a care that you stand just i' the 
nicke about sixe a docke in the evening ; my maide shall 
conduct you up. To save mine honour, you must come 
up darkling, and to avoid suspition. 

Men, Zounds! hud winkt; and if you'l open all, 
sweet lady 

Abi, But if you faile to doo 't 

Men, The sunne shall faile the day first. 

Abi, Tie this ring fast, you may be sure to know. 
You'l brag of this, now you have brought mee to the 

Men, Fox o' this masque ! Would 'twere done! I might 
To my apothecaries far some stirring meats ! 

Tha, Me thinkes, sir, you should blush e'en through 
your vizor. 
I have scarce patience to daunce out the rest. 


Boh, The worse my fate that plowes a marble quarry : 
Figmalion, yet thy image was more kinde, 
Although thy love 's not halfe so true as mine. 
Danoe they that list, I saUe against the winde. 

Tha, Nay, sir, betray not your infirmities. 
You 1 make my husband jealous by and by. 
We will thinke of you, and that presently. 

Gfd. The spheares neer danc'd unto a better tune. 
Sound musicke there ! 

[The third change ended. Ladies faU off, 

lea. 'Twas musicke that he spake. 

Bob. Gallants, I thanke you, and 
B^in a health to your mistresses. 
Three or four faire thankes. Sir Bride-groome. 

lea. He speakes not to this pledge ; has he no mis- 

Would I might chuse one for him ! but 't may be 
He doth adore a brighter starre then we. 

Bob, Sit, ladies, sit ; you have had standing long. 

[Eogero dances a Levalto or a Galliard, and in the 
midst of it,faUeth into the Brides lap, btit 
straight hopes up and danceth it out. 

Men, Blesse the man ; sprt'ly and nobly done ! 

Tha. What, is your ladyship hurt ? 

Isa, O no, an easie fall. 
Was I not deepe enough, thou god of lust, 
But I must further wade I I am his now. 
As sure as Junos, Joyes 1 Hymen, take flight. 
And see not me, 'tis not my wedding night. 

[BxU IsabeUa. 

Car. The bride 's departed discontent seemes. 

Bob. Wee '1 after her. Grallants, unmasque I pray, 

128 INSATIATE C0UNTES8E. [act ir. 

And tast a homely banquet, we intreate. 

\Ex. Eoberto, Cardinal. 

da. Candidi, Erignos, I beseecli tbee, and lights! 

Mm, Come, widdow, He bee bold to put you in. 
My lord, will you have a sotiate ? [Ex, Thais. Lent. Abig. 

Rog. Good gentlemen, if I have any interest in you, 
Let me depart unknowne ; 'tis a disgrace 
Of an etemall memory. 

Men. What, the fall, my lord ? — ^as common a thing as 
can bee. The stiffest man in Italy may fall betweene a 
womans legges. 

Cla, Would I had chang'd places with you, my lord — 
would it had beene my hap ! 

Rog. What cuckold layd his homes in my way ? 
Signior Claridiana, you were by the lady when I fell : 
Doe you thinke I hurt her ? 

Cla. You coidd not hurt her, my lord, betweene the 

Rog. What was 't I fell withall ? 

Men. A crosse point, my lord. 

Rog. Crosse point, indeed. Well, if you love mee, let 
mee hence unknowne ; 
The silence yours, the disgrace mine owne. 

[Ex. Car. and Mend. 

Enter Isabella with a gilt gohlety and meetes Eogero. 

laa. Sir, if-wine were nectar, He begin a health 
To her that were most gracious in your eye ; 
Yet daigne, as simply 'tis the gift of Bacchus, 
To give her pledge that drinkes. This god of wine 
Cannot inflame me more to appetite. 


Though lie bee to supreme with mighty Love, 
Then thy faire shape. 

Bog, Zounds ! she comes to deride me. 

Isa. That Idsse shall seire 
To be a pledge, although my lips should starve. 
No tricke to get that vizor from his face ? 

Rog, I will Steele hence, and so oonceale disgrace. 

Isa, Sir, have you left nought behinde ? 

Boff, Yes, but the fates will not permit 
(As gems once lost are seldome or never found) 
I should convey ii with me. Sweete, good-night ! 
She bends to me : there 's my &11 againe. [Exit, 

Isa, Hee 's gon 1 That lightning that a while doth 
Our eyes with amaz'd brightnesse, and on a sudden 
Leaves us in prisoned darknesse 1 Lust, thou art high ; 
My smiles may well come from the sky. 
Anna, Anna! 

Enter Anna. 

Ann. Madame, did you call ? 

Isa. follow yond' stranger ; prethee learoe his name. 
We may hereafter thanke him. How I doate 1 [Ex. Anna. 
Is hee not a god 

That can command what other men would winne 
With the hard'st advantage ? I must have him. 
Or, shaddow-like, follow his fleeting steps. 
Were I as Daphne, and he followed chase. 
Though I rejected young Apollo's love. 
And like a dreame beguile his wandring steps. 
Should he pursue me through the neighbouring grove, 
Each cowslip-stalke should trip a willing faU, 

HI. 9 

130 INSATIATE C0UNTE8SE. [act ir. 

Till hee were mine, wlio till tlien am his thnill : 
Nor will I blusli, since worthy is my chance. 
'Tis said that Venus with a Satyre slept ; 
And how much short caihe she of my faiie aime ! 
Then, Queeue of Love, a president He be, 
To. teach faire women leame to love of mee. 
Speake, musicke : what 's his name ? 

Enter Anna. 

Ann. Madame, it was the worthy Count Massino. 

/««. Blest be thy tongue ! The worthy count indeede. 
The worthiest of the worthies. Trusty Anna, 
Hast thou pack'd up those monies, plate, and jewels 
I gave direction for ? 

Ann, Yes, madame ; I have trust up them, that many 
A proper man has beene trust up for. 

ha. I thanke thee. Take the wings of night. 
Beloved secretary, and post with them to Swevia ; 
There furnish up some stately palace 
Worthy to entertaine the king of love : 
Prepare it for my comming and my loves. 
Ere Phoebus steedes once more unhamest be, 
Or ere he sport with his beloved Thetis, 
The silver -footed goddesse of the sea. 
Wee will set forward — fly, like the northern winde, 
Or swifter, Anna — ^fleete, like to my minde. 

An. I am just of your minde^ madame. I am goUs. 

\Exit Anna. 

Isa. So to the house of death the mourner goes, 
That is bereft of what his soule desir'd, 
As I to bed — I to my nuptiall bed, 
. The heaven on earth : so to thought-slaughters went 
The pale Andromeda, bedewed with teares, 


When every minute she expected gripes of a fell monster, 

And in yaine bewail'd the act of her creation. 

Sullen Night, that look'st with sunke eyes on my nuptiall 

With ne're a starre that smiles upon the end. 
Mend thy slacke pace, and lend the malecontent. 
The hoping lover, and the wishing bride, 
Beames that too long thou shaddowest : or, if not, 
In spight of thy fixt front, when my loath'd mate 
Shall struggle in due pleasure for his right, 
De think 't my love, and die in that delight ! [Exit. 

Enter ^ at severaU doores, Abigail and Thais. 

AM, Thais, you 're an early riser. 
I have that to shew wiU make your hayre stand an-^nd. 

Tka. Well, lady, and I have that to show you will bring 
your courage downe. What would you say and I would 
name a partie saw your husband court, kisse, nay, almost 
goe through for the hole ? 

Abu How, how? what would I say? nay, by this light! 
what would I not doe ? If ever Amazon fought better, or 
more at 'the face, then lie doe, let me never be thought a 
new-married wife. Come, unmasque her ; tis some admi- 
rable creature, whose beautie you neede not paint; I 
warrant you, 'tis done to your hand. 

Tha. Would any woman but I be abused to her face ? 
Frethee reade the contents. Enow'st thou the character ? 

A6i, 'Tis my husbands hand, and a love-letter ; but for 
the contents I finde none in it. Has the lustfall monster, 
all backe and belly, starv'd me thus P What defect does 
he see in mee P lie be sworne, wench, I am of as pliant 

Iff2 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act ii. 

and yeelding a body to him, e'en wbicli way he will — ^he 
may tume me as he list him-selfe. What? and dedicate to 
thee ! I, many, heere 's a stile so heigh as a man camiot 
helpe a dog o're it. He was wont to write to me in the 
citie phrase, My good Abigail. Heere 's astonishment <rf 
nature, unparaleld excellency, and most nnequall rarity of 
creation! — ^three such words will tume any honest woman 
in the world a whore ; for a woman is never won till shee 
know not what to answere ; and beshrew me if I under- 
stand any of these. Ton are the party, I perceive, and 
heer 'es a white sheete, that your husband has promist me 
to do penance in: you must not thinke to dance the 
shaking of the sheetes alone, though their be not such rare 
phrases in 't — 'tis more to the matter : a legible hand, but 
for the dash or the (hee) and (as) short bawdy parenthesis 
as ever you saw, to the purpose; he has not left out a 
pricke, I warrant you, wherein he has promist to doe me 
any good ; but the law 's in mine owne hand. 

Tha. I ever thought by his red beard hee would prove 
a Judas ; here am I bought and sold ; he makes much oi 
me indeed. Well, wench, wee were best wisely in time 
seeke for prevention ; I should be loath to take drinke and 
die on 't, as I am afraid I shall, that he will lye with thee. 

AH, To be short, sweete heart. He be true to thee, 
though a Iyer to my husband. I have signed your hus* 
bands biU like a wood-cocke as hee is held, perswaded 
liiTn (since nought but my love can asswage his violent 
passions) he should enjoy, like a private friend, the 
pleasures of my bed. I told him my husband was to goe 
to Maurano to-day, to renew a farme he has ; and in the 
meane time hee might be tenant at wiU to use mine. This 
false fire has so tooke with him, that hee 's ravisht afore 


bee come. I hare had stones one him all red. Dost know 

Tha. I, too well ; it blushes, for his master points to 
the ringe. 

Abi, Now my husband will be hawkin about thee anon, 
And thou canst meete him closely. 

Tha. By my fayth I would bee loath in the dark, and 
bee knew me. 

Abi. I meane thus : the same occasion will scttc him 
too ; they are birds of a feather, and will flye together, I 
warrant thee, wench ; appoint him to come ; say that thy 
husband 's gone for Mawrano, and tell mee anone if thou 
mad'st not his heart-bloud spring for joy in his face. 

Tha, I conceive you not all this while. 

Abi. Then th' art a barren woman, and no marvaile if 
thy husband love thee not. The houre for both to come 
is sixe — a dark time fit for purblinde loyers; and with 
cleanly convayance by the niglers our maids, they shall be 
translated into our bed-chambers. Your husband into 
mine, and mine into yours. 

Tha. But you meane they shall come in at the backe- 

Abi. Who ? our husbands ? nay, and they come not in 
at the fore-dores there will be no pleasure in 't. But we 
two will climbe over our garden-pales, and come in that 
way (the chastest that are in Venice will stray for a good 
tume), and thus wittily will wee bestowed — ^you into my 
house to your husband, and I into your house to my 
husband ; and I warrant thee before a month come to an 
end, they 'U craeke louder of this nights-lodging then the 

Tha. All is if our maids keepe secret. 

134 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act ii. 

AU. Mine is a maid Be be swome ; sliee has kept her 
secrets hitherto. 

Tha. Troath, and I nerer had any sea captaine horded 
in my house. 

AM, Goe to, then ; and the better to avoid .suspition, 
thus we must insist: they must come up darkling, recreate 
themselves with their dei^ht an houre or two, and after a 
million kisses, or so. 

Tha, But is my husband content to come darkling ? 

AH, What, not to save mine honour ? Hee that will 
runne through fire, as hee has profest, will, by the heate of 
his love, grope in the darke ! I warrant him he shall 
save mine honour. 

Tha, I am afraid my voyce will discover mee. 

Abi, Why, then, you 'ad best say nothing, and take it 
thus quietly when your husband comes. 

Tha. I, but you know a woman cannot chuse but speake 
in these cases. 

Abi. Bite in your neather-lip, and I warrant you ; 
Or make as if you were whiffing tobacco ; 
Or puich like me. Grods so I I heare thy husband 1 \Ex. 

Tha, Farewell, wise woman ; 

Enter Mizaldus. 

Miz, Now gins my vengeance mount high in my lust : 
' Tis a rare creature, shee '11 do 't i'faith ; 
And I am arm'd at all points. A rare whiblin, 
To be reveng'd, and yet gain pleasure in 't. 
One height above revenge I Yet what a slave am I ! 
Are there not younger brothers enough, but we must 
Branch one another ? O, but mines revenge ! 
And who on that does dreame 


Must be a tyrant ever in extreame. 
O, my wife Thais, get my breakefast ready ; 
I must into the comitTy to my farme I have 
Some two miles off, and, as I thinke, 
Shall not come home to-night. Jaques, Jaques ! 
Get my vessell ready to row me downe the river. 
Prethee make haste, sweete girle. [Exit Mizaldus. 

Tha, So, ther 's one foole shipt away. Are your crosse- 
points discovered ? Get your breake-fast ready ! 
By this Hght ile tie you to hard fare ; 
I have beene to sparing of that you prodigally offer 
Voluntary to another : well, you will be a tame fooler 

The finest light is when we first defraud ; 
Husband to-night 'tis I must lye abroad. \Exit. 

Enter Isabella, and a Page with a letter, 

Isa. Here, take this letter, beare it to the count. 
But, boy, first tell, think'st thou I am in love ? 

Page. Madam, I cannot tell. 

laa. Canst thou not tell ? Dost thou not see my face ? 
Is not the face the index of the minde ? 
And canst thou not distinguish love by that? 

Page. No, madam. 

Im. Then take this letter and deliver it 
Unto the worthy count. No, fie upon him ! 
Gome backe : teU me, why shouldst thou thinke 
That same 's a love-letter? 

Page. I doe not thinke so, madam. 

Isa. I know thou dost ; for thou dost ever use 
To hold the wrong opinion. Tell me true. 
Dost thou not thinke that letter is of love ? 


Page. If ydu would have me thinke so, madam, yes. 

Isa. Wliat, dost thou thinke thy lady is so fond? 
Give me the letter; thy selfe shall see- it. 
Yet I should teare it in the breaking ope. 
And make him lay a wrongfull charge on thee. 
And say thou brok'st it open by the way. 
And saw what haynous things I charge him with. 
But 'tis all one, the letter is not of love ; 
Therefore deliver it unto himselfe. 
And tell him hee 's deceiv'd — I doe not love him. 
But if he thinke so, bid him come to mee. 
And lie con^te him straight ; ile shew him reasons — 
lie shew him plainely why I cannot love him. 
And if he hap to reade it in thy hearing, 
Or chance to tell thee that the words were sweet. 
Doe not thou then disclose my lewde intent 
Under those syrene words, and how I meane 
To use him when I have him at my will ; 
For then thou wilt destroy the plots that *s layd. 
And make him feare to yeeld when I doe wish 
Onely to have him yeeld ; for when I have him, 
None but my selfe shall know how I wiU use him. 
Begon I why stayest thouP — ^yet retnme againe. 

Page, I, madam. 

Isa. Why dost thou come againe ? I bad thee goe. 
If I say goe, never retume againe. [Exii Page-. 

My blood, Kke to a troubled ocean, 
Cuff'd with the windes, incertaine where to rest, 
Buts at the utmost share of every limbe 1 
My husband 's not the man I would have had. 
O, my new thoughts to this brave sprightly lord 
Was fixt to that hid fire lovers feele I 


Where was my minde before — ^that refin'd judgement 

That represents rare objects to our passions ? 

Or did my lust begidle me of my sence, 

Making me feast upon such dangerous catds. 

For present want, that needes must breed a surfeit P 

How was I shipwrackt ? Tet, Isabella, thinke 

Thy husband is a noble gentleman, young, wise. 

And ricb ; thinke what fate foUowes thee, 

And nought but lust doth blinde thy worthy lore. 

I will desist. no, it may not be. 

Even as a head-strong courser beares way 

His rider, vainely striving him to stay ; 

Or as a suddaine gale thrusts into sea 

The haven-touching barke, now neare the sea : — 

So wavering Cupid brings me backe againe, 

Ani purple Love resumes his darts againe ; 

Here of themselves, by shafts come as if shot. 

Better then I they quiver knowes 'em not. 

Unter Count Absena and a Page. 

JPage. Madam, the count. 

Bx>g, So fell the Trojan wanderer on the Greeke, 
And bore away his ravish prize to Troy. 
For such a beautie, brighter then his Dana, 
Love should (me thinkes) now come himselfe againe. 
Lovely Isabella, I confesse me mortall — 
Not worthy to serve thee in thought, I swere ; 
Yet shall not this same over-flow of favour 
Diminish my vow'd duty to your beauty. 

Im, Tour love, my lord, I blushing proclaime it. 
Hath power to draw mee through a wildemesse, 
Wer't arm'd with furies, as with furious beasts. 

138 INSATIATE C0UNTES8E, [act ii. 

Boy, bid our traine beready ; wee 'le to liorse. [Exit Page. 
My lord, I should say something, but I blush ; 
Courting is not befitting to our sexe. 

Rog. He teach you how to woo. 
Say you have lov'd mee long, 
And tell me that a womans feeble tongue ' 
Was never turned unto a wooing-string ; 
Yet for my sake you will forget your sexe. 
And court my love with strain'd immodesty, • 
Then bid me make you happy with a kisse. 

ha. Sir, though women doe not woo, yet for your sake 
I am content to leave that civiU custome. 
And pray you kisse me. 

Eog, Now use some unexpect umbages. 
To draw me further into Vulcanes net. 

Iha, You love not me so weU as I love you. 

Bog, Faire lady, but I doe. 

ha. Then show your love. 

Bog, Why in this kisse I show 't, and in my vowed service 
This wooing shall suffice. 'Tis easier farre 
To make the current of a silver-brooke 
Convert his flowing backward to his spring 
Then tume a woman wooer. There 's no cause 
Can tume the setted course of Natures lawes. 

ha. My lord, will you pursue the plot ? 

Bog, The letter gives direction here for Pavie. 
To horse, to horse ! Thus once Fridace, 
With lookes regardiant, did the Thracian gaze. 
And lost his gift while he desired the sight. 
But wiser, I, lead by more powerfull charme, 
Ide see the world winne thee from out mine arme. 



Enter at teveraU chores, Clabidiana and GuiDO. 

Chii. Zounds ! is the Huritano comming P Glaridiana, 
what 'a the matter ? » . 

Cla. The Countesse of Swevia has new taken hone. 
Flye, PhcBbus, %e, the houre is sixe a docke ! 

Out. YHiether is shee gone, signior ? 

Cla. Even as Jove went to meete his simile ; 
To the divell, I thinke. 

Oiti, Ton know not wherefore ? 

Cla. To say sooth, I doe not. 
So in immortall wise shall I arrive — ^ 

Gui. At the gallowes. What, in a passion, signior ? 

Cla. Zounds ! doe not hold me, sir. 
Beautious Thais, I am all thine wholy. 
The staffe is now advancing for the rest, 
And when I tilt, Mizaldus, aware my crest ! [Exit. 

Enter Boberto, in his night-goume and cap, with 
Servants ; he kneeles dovme. 

Gui. What 's here ? — ^the capring god-head tilting in 
the ayre ? 

Rob. The gods send her no horse, a poore old age, 
Etemall woe, and sicknesse lasting rage ! 

Gui. My lord, you may yet o'er-take 'em. 

Rob. Furies supply that place, for I wiU not I No, 
She oan forsake me when pleasures in the full, 
Fresh and untird, what would she on the least barren 

coldnesse ? 
I warrant you she has already got 
Her bravoes and her ruffians ; the mea;ttest whore ^ 
Will have one buckler, but your great ones more. 

140 INSATIATE C0UNTES8E, [act ii. 

The shores of Sicile retaines not sucli a monster, 

Though to galley-slaves they daily prostitute. 

To let the nuptiall tapers give light to her new lust ! 

Who would have thought it P 

She that could no more forsake my company, 

Then can the day forsake the glorious pressenoe of the 

sunne 1— 
When I was absent then her galled eyes 
Would have shed April showers, and outwept 
The clouds in that same o're-passionate moode. 
When they drown'd all the world — ^yet now forsakes me ! 
Women, your eyes shed glances like the sunne : 
Now shines your brightnesse, now your light is done. 
On the sweetest showres you shine — 'tis but by chance. 
And on the basest weede you '1 wast a glance. 
Tour beames, once lost, can never more be found, 
Unlesse we waite until your course runne round, 
' And take you at fift hand. Since I cannot 
Enjoy the noble title of a man. 
But after-ages, as our vertues are 
Buried whilst we are living, will sound out 
My infamy, and her degenerate shame, 
Tet in my life ile smother 't, if I may, 
And like a dead man to the world bequeath 
These houses of vanity, mils, and lands. 
Take what you will, I will not keepe among you, servants. 
And welcome some religious monastery. * 

A true swome beads-man ile hereafter be. 
And wake the morning oocke with holy prayers. 

8er, Good, my lord — noble master 

Boh. Disswade me not, my will shall be my king ; 


I thaxike thee, wife, a faire change thou hast given ; 
I leave thy lust to woo the love of HeaTen I 

[Exit cum servis, 
Chii. This is conversion, is't not — as good as might 
have bin ? 
He retuines religious upon his wives turning curtezan. 
This is just like some of our gallant prodigals, 
Wben thqr have consum'd their patrimonies wrongfully. 
They tume Capuchins for devotion. \Exii, 

«fi» ffl* ia% m H^ 


142 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act hi. 


Clabidiana a»e?EoG£EO, beiim in a readinease, are received 
in at one anothera houses by their Maids, 

Then enters Mendosa, with a Page, to the Lady Lentulus 

Men» ^Jj^gljJI^IGHT, like a solemne mourner, frownes 

on earth, 
Envying that day should force her 

dofFe her roabes, 
Or PhcBbus, chase away her melancholly. 
Heavens eyes looke faintly through her sable masque, 
And silver Cinthia hyes her in her sphsere, 
Scorning to grace blacke Nights solemnity. 
Be unpropitious, Night, to villaine thoughts. 
But let thy diamonds shine one vertuous love. 
This is the lower house of high-built heaven. 
Where my chaste Phoebe sits inthron'd 'mong thoughts 
So purely good, brings her to heaven on earth. 
Such power hath soules in contemplation ! 
Sing, boy (thought night yet), like the mornings larke — 

A soule that 's cleare is light, thought heaven be darke. 

T/ie Lady Lentulus at her window. 
Len. Who speakes in musicke to us ? 


Mm. Sweet, 'tis I. Boy, leave me and to bed. 

[Ssnt Page, 
Len. I thanke you for your musicke ; now, good-night. 
Men, Leave not the world yet, Queene of Chastity, 
Keepe promise with thy love, Endimion, 
And let me meete thee there on Latmus top. 
"lis I whose vertuous hopes are firmely fixt 
On the fruition of thy chast vow'd love. 

Len, My lord, your honor made me promise you ascent 
Into my house, since my vow bar^'d my doores. 
By some wits engine made for theft and lust ; 
Yet for your honour, and my humble fame, 
Checke your blonds passions, and retume, deare lord. 
Suspition is a dogge that still doth bite 
Without a cause : this act gives foode to envy ; 
Swolne big, it bursts, and poysons our cleare flames. 
Men, Envy is stinglesse when she lookes on thee. 
Len. Envy is blinde, my lord, and cannot see. 
Men. If you breake promise, faire, you breake my heart. 
Len. Then come. Yea, stay. Ascend. Yet let us part. 
I feare, you know not what I feare. 
Your love 's pretious, yet mine honour 's deare. 

Men, If I doe staine thy honour with foule lust, 
May thunder stricke me to show Jove is just ! 

Len. Then come, my lord ; on earth your vow is given. 
This aide ile lend you. 

[He ihroiDs tip a ladder of cords , tchieh she maJcesfast 
to some part of the window; he ascends^ and at 
Men, Thus I mount my heaven. 
Eeceive me, sweete ! 
Len. O me, unhappy wretch 1 

144 INSATIATE C0UNTE88K [act rir. 

How fares your honour ? Speake, fate-crosse lord ! 

If life retaine his seat within you, speake ! 

Else like that Sestian dame, that saw her love . 

Cast by the frowning billowes on the sands. 

And leane death, swobie big with the Hellespont, 

In bleake Leanders body — Kke his love. 

Come I to thee. One grave shall serve us both ! 

Men, Stay, miracle of women ! yet I breathe. 
Though death be enter'd in this tower of flesh, 
Hee is not conquerour ; my heart stands out, 
And yeelds to the, scorning his tyranny ! 

Lm, My doores are vow'd shut, and I cannot helpc 
Tour wounds are mortaU ; wounded is mine honour, 
If there the towne-guard finde you. Unhappy dame ! 
Beliefe is perjur'd, my vow kept. Shame ! 
What hellish destinie did twist my fate ! 

Men, Best ceaze thine eye-Ms ; be not passionate ; 
Sweet sleepe secure ; He remove my selfe. 
That viper envy shall not spot thy fame : 
He take that poyson with me, my soules rest, 
For like a serpent. He creepe on my breast. 

Len, Thou more then man! Love-wounded, joy and 
griefe fight in my blond. They wounds and constancie 
are both so strong, none can have victory ! 

Men, Darke the world; earths queene, get thee to bed; 
The earth is light while those two starres are spread : 
Their splendor wiU betray me to mens eyes. 
Vaile thy bright face ; for if thou longer stay, 
Phoebus will rise to thee, and make night day. 

Len, To part and leave you hurt my soule doth feare. 

Men. To part from hence I cannot, you being there. 


Len. Wee '11 move togetlier, then fate love controules ; 
And as we part, so bodies part from soules. 

Men. Mine is the earth, thine the refined fire ; 
[ am morrall, thou divine, then soule monnt higher. 

Len, Why then, take comfort, sweet ; lie see on to- 
morrow. [Exit. 

Men. My wounds are nothing ; thy losse breedes my 
See now 'tis darke ; 

Support your master, legges, a little further ; 
Faint not, bolde heart, with anguish of my wound ; - 
Try further yet. Can bloud weigh downe my soule ? 
Desire is vaine without abilitie. 

[He staggara on, and thenfdU downe. 
Thus fals a monarch, if fate push at him. 

Enter a Captaine and the Watch. 

Cap. Come on, my hearts ; we are the cities securitie. 
He give you your charge, and then, like courtiers, every 
man spye out. Let no man in my company be afraid to 
speake to a cloake lined with velvet, nor tremble at the 
sound of a gingling spurre. 

Watch. May I never be counted a cock of the game, if 
I feare spurres ; but be gelded like a capon for the pre- 
serving of my voyce. 

Cap, lie have none of my band refraine to search a 
veneriall house, though his wifes sister be a lodger there ; 
nor take two shillings of the bawd to save the gentlemens 
credits that are aloft; and so, like voluntary pandars, 
leave them, to the shame of all halbardiers. 

2. Nay, the wenches, we« '11 tickle them, that 's flat. 
IIT. 10 

146 INSATIATE C0UNTES8E. [act hi. 

Cap, If you meete a shevoiliero, that 's in the grosse 
phrase, a knight, that swaggers in the streete, and, being 
taken, has no money in his purse to pay for his fees, 
it shall be a part of your duty to entreate me to let him 

1. O mervailous ! is there such shevoilieros ? 

2. Some two hundred, that's the least, that are re- 
veal'd [Mend, grones. 

Cap, What grone is that ? Bring a light. Who lyes 
there P 

It is the Lord Mendosa, kinsman to our duke. 
Speake, good my lord : relate your dire mischance ; 
Life like a fearefell servant, flyes his' master ; 
Art must attone them, or th' whole man is lost. 
Convay him to a surgeons, then retume ; 
No place shall be unsearch'd untill we finde 
The truth of this mischance. Make haste againe. 

[Exit the Watch, manet Captain. 
Whose house is this stands open ? In, and search 
What guests that house containes, and brings them forth. 
This noble mans misfortune stirs my quiet. 
And fils me soule with fearefull fantasies ; 
But lie unwinde this laborinth of doubt, 
IJlse industry shall loose part of selfes labour. 
Who have we there ? Signiors, cannot you tell us 
How our princes kinsman came wounded to the death 
Nigh to your houses ? 

Eog, Heyday! crosse-ruffe at midnight ! Is 't Christmas? 
You goe a gaming to our neighbours house. 

Cla, Dost make a mummer of me, oxe-head ? 

Cap. Make answere, gentlemen, it doth couceme you. 

Rog, Oxe-head will beare an action; ile ha' the law; 


ile not be yoakt. Beare witnesses gentlemen, he cals me 

Cap. Doe yon heaie, sir ? 

Cla. Very well, veiy well ; take law and hang thy selfe ; 
I care not. Had she no other bnt that good face to 
doate upon ? I rather she had dealt with a daiigerous 
French-man then with such a pagan. 

Cap. Are you mad ? Answere my demand. 
Boff, I am as good a Christian as thy selfe. 
Though my wife have now new christned me. 
Cap, Are you deafe, you make no answere ? 
Cla. Would I had had the circumcising of thee, Jew, 
ide ha' cut short your cuckold-maker; I would i'faith, 
I would ifaith ! 

Cap. Away with them to prison ; they '1 answere better 

Boff. Not too fast, gentlemen ; what 's your crime ? 
Cap. Murder of the dukes kinsman, Signior Mendosa. 
Ambo. Nothing else ? We did it, we did it, we did it ! 
Cap. Take heed, gentlemen, what you confesse. 
Cla. He confesse any thinge, since I am made a foole 
by a knave. He be hang'd like an innocent, that 's fiat. 

Eoff. lie not see my shame. Hempe instead of a 
quacksalver. You shall put out mine eyes, and my head 
shall bee bought to make incke-homes of. 
Gap. You doe confesse the murder ? 
Cla. Sir, 'tis true, 
Done by a faithlesse Christian and a Jew. 

Cap. To prison with them ; we will heare no further ; 
The tongue betrayes the heart of guilty murder. ^ 

[Exeunt omnes. 

148 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act hi. 

Enter Count GuiDO, Isabella, Anna, and Servants. 

Gui, Welcome to Pavy, sweete ; and may this kisse 
Chase melancholy from thy company ; 
Speake, my soules joy, how fare you after travaile ? 

laa. hike one that scapeth danger on the seas, 
Yet trembles with cold feares, being safe on land. 
With bare imagination of what 's past. 

€ruL Feare keepe with cowards, aire stars cannot move. 

Isa. Feare in this kinde, my lord, doth sweeten love. 

Gui. To thinke feare joy, deare, I cannot conjecture. 

Isa, Feare 's fire to fervencie, 
Which makes loves sweete prove nectar ; 
Trembling desire, feare, hope, and doubtfull leasure, 
Distill from love the quintessence of pleasure. 

GuL Madam, I yeeld to you ; feare keepes with love. 
My oratory is two weake against you : 
You have the ground of knowledge, wise experience. 
Which makes your argument invincible. 

Isa, You are Time* scholler, and can flatter weake- 

Gui. Custome allowes it, and we plainely see 
Princes and women mainetaine flattery. 

Isa. Anna, goe see my jewels and my truiJEes 
Be aptly placed in their severall roomes. [Eant Anna. 

Enter Gniaca Count of Gaza, mfk Attendants. 

My lord, know you this gallant? 'Tis a compleat 

Gui. I doe ; 'tis Count Gniaca, my endeared fiiend. 

Gni. Welcome to Pavie, welcome, faire lady. 


Tout sight, deare Mend, is lifes restorati-re ; 
This day 's the period of long-wish'd content, 
More welome to me tiien day to the world, 
Night to the wearied, or ^Id to a mizer ; 
Such joy feeks friendship in society. 

Isa. A rare shap'd man : compare them both together. 
Gm, Our ioves are friendly twins, both at a birth ; 
The joy you taste, that joy doe I oonoeive. 
This day 's the jubile of my desire. 

Isa. He 's fairer then he was when first I saw him. 
This little time makes him more excellent. 

Gni, Eelate some newes. Harke you ; what lady 's that ? 
Be open-breasted, soe will I to thee. \They whisper, 

ha, Errour did blinde him that paints love blinde ; 
For my love plainely judges difference : 
Love is cleare-sighted, and with eagles eyes, 
Undazeled, lookes upon bright sunne-beam'd beauty. 
Nature did rob herselfe when shee made him. 
Blushing to see her worke exceU her selfe ; 
' Tis shape makes mankinde femelacy. 
Forgive me, Eogero, 'tis my fate 
To love thy friend, and quit thy love with hate. 
I must enjoy him ; let hope thy passion smother ; 
Faith cannot cool^ bloud ; ile clip him wer 't my brother ; 
Such is the heate of my sincere affection, 
Hell nor earth can keepe love in subjection I 

Oni, I crave your hours pardon my ignorance 
Of what you were, may gaine a curteous pardon. 

ha. There needs no pardon where there 's no offence. 
His tongue strikes musicke ravishing my sense : 
I must be sodaine, else desire confounds mee. 
Qui. What sport affords this climate for delight ? 

150 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act m. 

Gni. We'le hawke and hunt to-day; as for to-morrow. 
Variety shall feed variety. 

Isa. Dissimulation womens armour is, 
Aide love beleefe, and female constancy. 
O, I am sicke, my lord ! Kinde Bogero, help mee ! 

GiiL Forsend it, Heaven! Madam, sit ; how fare you? 
My lives best comfort, speake — O speake, sweet saint! 

Isa. Fetch art to keepe life ; runne, my love, I faint ; 
My vitall breath runnes coldly through my veynes ; 
I see leane death, with eyes imaginary. 
Stand fearefiilly before me ; here my end, 
A wife unconstant, yet thy loving Mend ! 

Gut, As swift as thought, flie I to wish thee ayde. 


Isa, Thus innocence by craft is soon betraid. 
My Lord Ghiiaca, 'tis your art must heale me ; 
I am love-sicke for your love ; love, love, for loving ! 
I blush for speaking truth ; faire sir, beleeve me. 
Beneath the moone nought but your frowne can grieve me. 

GnL Lady, by Heaven, me thinkes this fit is strange. 

Isa, Count not my love light for this sodaine change : 
By Cupids bow I sweare, and will avow, 
I never knew true perfect love till now. 

GnL Wrong not your selfe, me, and your dearest friend ; 
Your love is violent, and soone will end. 
Love is not love unlesse love doth persevere ; 
That love is perfect love, that loves for ever. 

Isa, Such love is mine ; beleeve it, well-shap'd youth, 
Though women use to lye, yet I speake truth. 
Give sentence for my life, or speedy death. 
Can you affect me ? 

GnL I should belye my thoughts to give denyall; 

-•■— -^--.^ J 


But then to friendslup I must tarne disloyall. 
I will not wrong my friend ; let tliat suffice. 
Isa, He be a miracle ; for love a woman dyes. 

[Offers to stab her selfe. 
Gni. Hold, madam ; these are soule-killing passions. 
Ida rather wrong my friend then you your selfe. 

Isa, Love me, or else by Jove, death 's but delay'd. 
V My vow is fixt in heaven ; feare shaU not move me ; 
My life is death with tortures 'lesse you love me. 
ChiL Give me some respite, and I will resolve you. 
Isa. My heart denies it ; 
My blood is violent ; now or else never ; 
Love me, and like loves queene ile fall before thee, 
Tnticing daliance from thee with my smiles, 
And steale thy heart with my delicious kisses. 
He study art in love, that in a rupture 
Thy soule shall taste pleasures excelling nature. 
Love me, both art and nature in large recompence 
Shall be profuse in ravishing thy sense. 

Onu You have prevailed; I am yours from all the 
world ; 
Thy wit and beauty have entranc'd my soule ; 
I long for daliance, my bloud bumes like lire ; 
Hels paine on earth is to delay desire ! 

Isa, I kisse thee for that breath. This day you hunt ; 
In midst of all your sports leave you Rogero ; 
Eetume to me whose life rests in thy sight. 
Where pleasure shall make nectar our delight, 

Gni, I condescend to what thy will implores mee ; 
He that but now neglected thee, adores thee. 
But see, here comes my friend; feare makes him tremble. 

152 INSATIATE C0UNTE88IL [act hi. 

Enter Eogeeo, Anna, and Doctor, 

l8a. Women are witlesse that cannot dissemble. 
Now I am sicke againe. Where 's my Lord Eogero? 
His love and my health 's vanish'd both together. 

Qui, Wrong not thy friend, deare friend, in thy ex- 
// treames ; 

Here 's a profound Hypocrates, my deare. 
To administer to thee the spirit of health. 

laa. Your sight to me, my lord, excels all phisicke ; 
I am better farre, my love, then when you left mee ; 
Your friend was comfortable to me at the last. 
' Twas but a fit, my lord, and now 'tis past. 
Are all things ready, sir ? 

Ann, Yes, madame, the house is fit. 

Crni. Desire in women is the life of wit. [Exeunt omnes. 

Enter Abigall and Thais, at severall doores. 

Abi. O, partner, I am with child of laughter, and none 
but you can be my mid-wife. Was there ever such a game 
at noddy? 

Tha, Our husbands thinke they are fore-men of the 
jury ; they hold the hereticke point of predestination, and 
sure they are borne to be hanged ! 

Abi. They are like to proud men of judgement; but 
not for killing of him that 's yet alive, and well recovered. 

Tha, As soone as my man saw the watch come up, 
AH his spirit was downe. 

Abi, But though they have made us good sport in speech, 
They did hinder us of good sport in action. 
O wench, imagination is strong in pleasure 1 

Tha, Th^t 's true ; for the opinion my good-man had 
of enjoying you made him doe wonders. 


AU. Why should a weake man, that is so soone satisfied, 
desire variety ? 

Tha. Their answer is, to feede on phesants continually 
would breede a loathing. 

AM. Then if we seeke for strange flesh that have 
stomackes at will, 'tis pardonable. 

Tha. I, if men had any feeling of it ; but they judge us 
by themselves. 

AH. Well, we will bring them to the gaUowes, and then, 
like kinde virgins, begge their lives ; and after live at our 
pleasures, and this bridle shall still reyne them. 

Tha. Faith, if we were disposed, we might seeme as safe 
As if we had the broad seale to warrant it ; 
But that nights worke will sticke by me this forty weekes. 
Come, shall w^ goe visit the discontented Lady Lentulus, 
Whom the Lord Mendosa has confest to his chirurgion 
He would have rob'd ? I thought great men would but 
Have rob'd the poore, yet he the rich. 

Abi. He thought that the richer purchase, though with 
the worse consdenoe ; but wee '11 to comfort her, and then 
goe heare our husbands lamentations. They say mine has 
compiled an ungodly volume of satyres against women, 
and cals his booke The Snarlt. 

Tha. But he 's in hope his booke will save him. 

Abi. Grod defend that it should, or any that snarle in 
that fashion ! 

Tha. Well, wench, if I could be metamorphosed into 
thy shape, I should have my husband pliant to me in his 
life, and soone rid of him ; for being weary with his con- 
tinuall motion, he 'de dye of a consumption. 

Abi. Make mudi of him, for all our wanton prize, 
Follow the proverbe, " Merry be and wise." [Exeunt. 


Enter Isabella, Anna, and Servants. 

ha. 3[ime, tliat devour'st all mortalitie, 
Kunne swiftly these few houres. 
And bring Guiaca on thy aged shoulders, 
That I may clip the rarest modell of creation. 
Doe this, gentle time, 
And I will curie thine aged silver locke. 
And dally with thee in delicious pleasure : 
Medea-like, I wiU renew thy youth ; 
But if thy frozen steps delay my love, 
He poyson thee, with murder curse thy pathes, 
And make thee know a time of infamy. 
Anna, give watch, and bring mee certaine notice 
When Count Gniaca doth approach my house. 

Ann. Madam, I goe. 
I am kept for pleasure, though I never taste it ; 
For 'tis the ushers office still to cover 
His laydes private meetings with her lovers. [Exit. 

Isa, Desire, thou quenchlesse flame that bumes our 
Cease to torment mee ; 
The dew of pleasure shall put out thy fire, 
And quite consume thee with satiety. 
Lust shall be cool'd with lust, wherein ile prove 
The life of love is onely sav'd by love. 

Enter Anna. 

Ann. Madam, hee 's comming. 

Isa. Thou blessed Mercury, 
Prepare a banquet fit to please the gods ; 
Let speare-like musicke breathe delicious tones 


Into our mortaU eares ; perfame the house 
With odoriferous sents, sweeter then myrrhe, 
Or all the spices in Panchaia. 
His sight and touching we will recreate, 
That his five sences shall bee five-fold happy. 
His breath like roses casts out sweete perfume ; 
Time now with pleasure shall it selfe consume. 

Enter Gniaga in his hunting toeedea. 

How like Adonis in his hunting weedes, 

Lookes this same goddesse-tempter P 

And art thou come ? This kisse enters into thy soule. 

Gods, I doe not envy you ; for know this 

Way's here on earth compleat, exoels your blisse : 

Be not change this nights pleasure with you all. 

Gni. Thou creature made by love, composed of pleasure, 
That mak'st true use of thy creation. 
In thee both wit and beauty 's resident ; 
DeHghtfull pleasure, unpeer'd excellence. 
This the fate fixt fast unto thy birth, 
That thou alone shouldst be mans heaven one earth. 
If I alone may but enjoy thy love, 
lie not change earthly joy to be heavens Jove : 
7or though that women-haters now are common. 
They aU shall know earths joy consists in woman. 

Isa. My love was doteage tiU I loved thee. 
For thy soule truely tastes our petulance ; 
Conditions lover, Cupids Intelligencer, 
That makes men understand what pleasure is : 
These are fit tributes unto thy knowledge 5 
For womens beauty o're men beare that rule : 
Our power commands the rich, the wise, the foole. 


Though scome growes big in man, in growth and stature. 
Yet women are the rarest workes of nature. 

Gni. I doe confesse the truth, and must admire 
That women can command rare mans desire. 

ha. Cease admiration, sit to Cupids feast, 
The preparation to Papheon daJiance ; 
Hermonius musicke, breath thy silver ayres, 
To stirre up appetite to Venus banquet. 
That breath of pleasure that entrances soules. 
Making that instant happinesse a heaven. 
In the true tast of loves deliciousnesse. 

Gni, Thy words are able to stirre cold desire 
Into "his flesh thy lyes intomb'd in ice, 
Having lost the feeling warmth in bloud ; 
Then how much more in me, whose youthfull veines. 
Like a proud river, over-flow their bounds ? 
Pleasiires ambrosia, or loves nourisher, 
I long for privacy ; come, let us in ; 
' Tis custome, and not reason, makes love sinne. 

laa. He lead the way to Venus paradise. 
Where thou shalt taste that fruit that made man wise. 

[Exit Isabella. 

Gni. Sing notes of pleasures to elate our blood : 
Why should heaven frowne on joyes that doe us good ? 
I come, Isabella, keeper of loves treasure. 
To force thy blood to lust, and ravish pleasure. [Exit. 

After some short songy enter Isabella and Gni AC a againe, 
she hanging about his necke ladvumsly. 

Gni. Still I am thy captive, yet thy thoughts are free ; 
To be loves bond-man is true liberty. 
I have swomme in seas of pleasure without ground, 


Ventrous desire past depth itselfe hath drownd. 
Such skill has beauties art in a tme loyer, 
That dead desire to life it can recover. 
Thus beauty our desire can scone advance. 
Then straight againe kiU it with daliance. 
Divinest women, your enchanting breaths 
Give lovers many lifes and many deaths ! 

ha. May thy desire to me for ever last, 
Not dye but surfet on my delicates ; 
And as I tie this Jewell about thy necke. 
So may I tie thy constant love to mine, 
Never to seeke weaking variety, 
That greedy curse of man and womans hell, 
Where nought but shame and loath'd diseases dwell. 

Gni, You counsel well, deare, leame it then ; 
For change is given more to you then men. 

/jw. My faith to thee, like rockes, shall never move. 
The sunne shall change his course ere I my love. 

Enter Anna. 

Ann. Madam, the Count Rogero knockes. 

Isa, Deare love, into my chamber, till I send 
My hate from sight. 

Gni, Lust makes me wrong my friend. [Exit Gniaca. 

laa, Anna, stand here and entertaine Lord Eogero ; 
I from my window straight will give him answere. 
The serpents wit to woman rest in me. 
By that men fell, then why not he by me ? 
Fain'd sighes and teares drop from a womans eye, 
Blindes man of reason, strikes his knowledge dumbe : 
Wit armes a woman ; Count Bogeroj come. [Exit Isabella. 


Ann, My office still is under : yet in time 
Ushers prove masters, degres makes us climbe. 

[Guido knokes. 
Who knockes ? Is 't you, my noble lord ? 

Enter Guido in his hunting weedes. 

Gui. Came my frind hither — Count Gniaca P 

Ann. No, my good lord. 

GuL Where 's my Isabella ? 

Ann, In her chambfer. 

Chii, Good : He visit her. 

Ann. The chamber 's lockt, my lord : shee will be 

Gui. Lockt against me — ^my sawcy mallapert ? 

Ann. Be patient, good my lord; shee '11 give you 

G^i. Isabella I life of love, speake, 'tis I that cals. 

[Isabella at her window. 

laa. I must desire your lordship pardon me. 

Gui. Lordship ? what 's this ? Isabella, art thou blinde ? 

Isa. My lord, my lust was blinde, but now my soule 's 

And sees the spots that did corrupt my flesh : 
Those tokens sent from hell, brought by desire. 
The messenger of everlasting death 1 

Ann. My lady 's in her pulpit, now shee '11 preach. 

Gui. Is not thy lady mad ? In veritie I alwayes 
Tooke her for a puritane, and now she shewes it. 

Isa. Mocke not repentance. Prophanation 
Brings mortals laughing to damnation. 
Beleeve it, lord, Isabella's ill-past life. 
Like gold refinn'd, shall make a perfect wife. 


I stand on firm ground now, before on ice ; 
', We know not vertue till wee taste of vice. 

GuL Doe you heare dissimulation, woman sinner P 

Isa, Leave my house, good my lord, and for my part, 
I looke for a most wisht reconciliation 
Betwixt my selfe and my most wronged husband. 
Tempt not contrition then, religious lord. 

Giii. Indeede I was one of your familie once ; 
But doe not I know these are but brame-trickes : 
And where the divell has the fee-simple, he will keep 

And will you halt before me that your selfe has made a 
criple ? 

Isa. Nay, then, you wrong me; and, disdained lord, 
I paid then for thy pleasures vendible — 
Whose mercenary flesh I bought with coyne. 
I will divulge thy baseness, 'lesse with speede 
Thou leave my house and my society. 

GuL Aleady tum'd apostate, but now all pure. 
Now damn'd your faith is, and loves endure 
Like dew upon the grasse, when pleasure sunne 
Shines on your vertues, all your vertue *s done, 
lie leave thy house and thee ; goe get thee in. 
You gaudy child of pride, and nurse of sinne. 

Isa. Kaile jiot on me, my lord ; for if you doe. 
My hot desire of vengeance shall strike wonder ; 
Eevenge in women fals like dreadfull thunder ! [Exit. 

Ann. Your lordship will command me no further service ? 

GuL I thanke thee for thy watchfull service past ; 
Thy usher-like attendance on the staires. 
Being true signes of thy humility. 

Ann, I hope I did discharge my place. with care. 


Gui. Ushers should have much wit, but little haire ; 
Thou hast of both sufficient : prethee leave me. 
If thou hast an honest lady, commend me to her, 
But she is none. « [ExU Anna, mariet Guido. 

Earewell, thou private strumpet, worse then common. 
Man were on earth an angell but for woman. 
That seaven-fould branch of hell from them doth grow, 
Pride, lust, and murder, they raise from below. 
With all their fellow-sinnes. / Women are made 
Of blood, without soules ; when their beauties fade. 
And their lusts past, avarice or bawdry 
Makes them still lov'd ; then they buy venere. 
Bribing damnation, and hire brothell slaves. 
Shame 's their executors, infiamy their graves. 
Your painting will wipe off, which art did hide, 
And show your ugly shape in spite of pride. 
Parewell, Isabella, poore in soule and fame, 
I leave thee rich in nothing but in shame. 
Then, soulelesse women, know, whose faiths are hollow, I 
Your lust being quench'd a blouy act must follow. [Exit. 




Enter the Duke qT Amago, the CaptainCy and the rest 
of the Watch, with the Senatours. 

Duke, ^^K"^ U S T I C E, that makes princes like the 
gods, drawes us unto the senate, 
That with unpartiall ballance we may 

The crimes and innocence of all offenders. 

Our presence can chase bribery from lawes ; 

He best can judge that heares himselfe the cause. 

1 Sen. True, mighty duke, it best becomes our places, 
To have our light from you the sonne of vertue, . 
Subject authority ; for game, love, or feare 

Oft quits the guilty, and condemns the cleare. 

Duke, The land and people 's mine, the crime being 

I must redresse ; my subjects wrong 's mine owne. 

Call for the two suspected for the murder 

Of Mendosa, our endered kinsman. These voluntary mur- 

That confesse the murder of him that is yet alive, 

Wee 'le sporte with serious justice for a while — 

In show wee 'le frowne one them that make us smile. 

2 Sen. Bring forth the prisoners, we may heare their 

III. 11 


162 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act iv. 

Enter {brought in with Officers) Claeidiana 
and MiZALDUS. 

Duke, Stand fortll, you vipers, that have suck'd blood, 
And lopt a branch sprung from a royall tree. 
What can you answere to escape tortures ? 

Bog. We have confest the act, my lord, to God and man, 
Our ghostly father, and that worthy captaine : 
We beg not life, but favourable death. 

Duke. On what ground sprung your hate to him we lov*d? 

Cla, Upon that curse laid on Yenecian jealousie. 
We thought he, being a courtier, would have made us 
nu^nificoes of.thexight stampe, and have plaid at primero 
in the presence, with gold of the city brought from Indies. 

Bog. Nay, more, my lord, we feared that your kinsman, 
for a messe of sonnets, would have given the plot of us and 
our wives to some needy poet, and for sport and profit 
brought us in some Yenecian comedy upon the stage. 

Duke.. Our justice dwels with mercy ; be not desperate. 

1 Sen. His highnease faine would save your lives if you 
would see it. 

Bog. All the law in Yenioe shall not save mee ; I will 
not be saved. 

Cla. Eeare not, I have a tricke to bring us to hanging 
in spite of the law. 

Bog. Why,nowIseethoulovestme; thou has confirm'd 
Thy friendship for ever to me by these wordes. 
Why, I should never hear lanthome and candle call*d for 
But I should thinke it was for me and my wife, 
lie hang for that ; forget not thy tricke ; 
Upon 'em with thy tricke ; I long for sentence. 

2 Sen. WUl you appeale for mercy to the duke ? 


Cla, Kill not thy justice, duke, to save our lives ; 
We have deserved death. 

Bog, Make not us presidents for after wrongs ; 
I will receive punishment for my sinnes : 
It shall be a meanes to lift me towards heaven. 

Cla, Let 's have our desert ; we crave no favour. 

Luke. Take them asunder; grave justice makes us 
That man is soulelesse that ne'er sinnes on earth. 
Signior Mizaldus, relate the weapon you kill'd him with, 
and the manner. 

Bog, My lord, your lustfdll kinsman — I can title him 
no better — came sneaking to my house like a promoter to 
spye flesh in the Lent. Now I, having a Venecian spirit, 
watcht my time, and with my rapier runne him through, 
knowing all paines are but trifles to the hqme of a 

Duke, Take him aside. Signior Claridiana, what weapon 
had you for this bloudy act P What dart us'd death ? 

Cla, My lord, I brain'd him with a leaver my neighbour 
lent me, and he stood by and cryed, " Strike home, olde 

Duke, With severall instruments. Bring them face to 
With what kill'd you our nephew ? 

Bog, With a rapier, leige. 

Cla, Tis a lye, 
I kill'd him with a leaver, and thou stood'st by. 

Bx>g. Dost think to save me and hang thyselfe ? No, 
I scome it; is this the tricke thou said'st thou had'st? I 
kill'd him, duke. 
Hee onely gave consent : 'twas I that did it. 

164 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act iv. 

Cla, Thou hast alwayes beene crosse to me, and wilt be 
to my death. Have I taken all this paines to bring thee 
to hanging, and dost thou slip now ? 

Bog, We shall never agree in a tale till we come to the 
gallowes, then we shall jumpe. 

Cla, He shew you a crosse-point, if you crosse me thus, 
when thou shalt not see it. 

Rog, l|le make a wry mouth at that, or it shall cost me 
a fall. 'Tis thy pride to be hang'd alone, because thou 
scorn'st my company; but it shall be knowne I am as 
good a man as thyselfe, and in these actions will keepe 
company with thy betters, Jew. 

Cla. Monster! 

Bog, Dogg-killer! 

Cla, Fencer ! \They hustle. 

Buke. Part them, part 'em ! 

Bog, Ha^ig us, and quarter us ; we shall ne'er be parted 
til then. 

Duke. You doe confesse the murther done by both ? 

Cla. But that I would not have the slave laugh at mee, 
And count me a coward, I have a good mind to live ; [Aside. 
But I am resolute : 'tis but a turne. I* doe confesses 

Bog. So doe I. 
Pronounce our doome, wee are prepar'd to dye. 

1 Sen, We sentence you to hang till you be dead ; 
Since you were men eminent in place and worth, 
We give a Christian buriall to you both. 

Cla. Not in one grave together, we beseech you, we 
shall ne'er agree. 

Bog. He scornes my company till the day of judgement ; 
He not hang with him. 

Duke. Tou hang together, that shall make you friends ; 


An everlating hatred death soone ends. 

To prison with them till the death ; 

ELings words, like fate, must never change their breath. 

Bog, You milce-monger. He be hang'd afore thee, 
And 't be but to vexe thee. 

Cla, He doe you as good a tume or the hangman, and 
shall fall out. [Exeunt ambo^ guarded. 

Enter Mendoza in his night gowne and cap, guarded^ with 
the Captaine, 

Duke, Now to our kinsman, shame to royall blood ; 
Bring him before us. 
Theft in a prince is sacrilege to honour ; 
'Tis vertile's scandall, death of royalty. 
I blush to see my shame. Nephew, sit downe ; 
Justice, that smiles on those, on him must frowne ! 
Speake freely, captaine ; where found you him wounded ? 

Copt. Betweene the widowes house and these crosse 
neighbours ; 
Besides, an artificiall ladder made of ropes 
Was fastned to her window, which he confest 
He brought to rob her of jewels and coine. 
My knowledge yeelds no further circumstance. 

Diike, Thou know'st too much ; would I were past all 
I might forget my griefe springs from my shame ! 
Thou monster of my blood, answere in breife 
To these assertions made against thy life. 
Is thy soule guilty of so base a fact ? 

Men. I doe confesse I did intend to rob her ; 
In the attempt I fell and hurt my selfe. 
Lawes thunder is but death ; I dread it not. 


So my Lentulus honor be preserved 
From black suspition of a lustfull night. 

Duke, Thy head 's thy forfeit for thy harts offence ; 
Thy bloods prerogative may daime that favour. 
Thy person then to death doomb'd by just lawes ; 
Thy death is infamous, but worse the cause. 

Enter Isabella alone^ GviKCiLfoU<noinff her. 

Isa. O Heav'ns, that I was borne to be hates slave, 
The foode of rumor that devours my fame ! 
I am call'd Insatiat Countesse, lust's paramowre, 
A glorious divell, and the noble whore ! 
I am sick, vext, and tormented. revenge ! 

Gni. On whom would my Isabella be reveng'dP 

Isa. Upon a viper, that does get mine honour ; 
I will not name him till I be reveng'd. 
See, her 's the libels are divulg'd against me — 
An everlasting scandall to my name — 
And thus the villen writes in my disgrace. 
" Who loves Isabella the Insatiate, [She reads. 

Needs Atlas back for to content her lust ; 
That wandring strumpet, and chaste wedlockes hate. 
That renders truth, deceipt, for loyall trust; 
That sacrilegious thief to Himens rights, 
Making her lust her god, heav'n her delights 1" 
Swell not, proude heart, lie quench thy griefe in blood; 
Desire in woman cannot be withstood ! 

Gni, lie be thy champion, sweet, gainst all the world ; 
Name but the viUaine that defames thee thus. 

Isa, Dare thy hand execute whom my tongue con- 


Then art thou truely valiant, mine for ever i 
But if thou fain'st, hate must our true lover sever. 

Gnu By my dead fathers soule, my mothers vertues, 
And by my knighthood and gentiLitie, lie be reveng'd 
On all the authors of your obloquie ! Name him. 

Isa. BrOgero. 

QnL Ha! 

ha. What ! does his name affright thee, coward lord 1 
Be mad, Isabella ; curse on thy revenge ! 
This lord was knighted for his fathers worth, 
Not for his owne. 

Parewell, thou perjur'd man ! He leave you all ; 
You all conspire to worke mifte honors fall. 

Chii. Stay, my Isabella; were he my fathers sonne, 
Composed of me, he dies ! 
Delight still keepe with thee. Goe in. 

ha. Thou art just ; 
Eevenge to me is sweeter now then lust. 

Enter Guido ; they see one another ^ and draw and make a 
jpaase; then enter Asin A. 

Ann, What meane you, nobles P Will you kill each 

Ambo. Hold! 

Out, Thou shame to friendship, what intends thy hate ? 

Oni. Love armes my hand, makes my soule valiant ! 
Isabellas wrongs now sits upon my sword. 
To fall more heavie to thy cowards head 
Then thunderbolts upon Joves rifled oakes. 
Deny thy scandall, or defend thy life. 

Gui, Wb&t P — ^hath thy faith and reason left thee both, / 
That thou art onely flesh without a soule P ' 

168 INSATIATE C0UNTES8E. [act iv. 

Hast thou no feeling of thy selfe and me ? 
Blind rage^ that will not let thee see thy selfe t 

Gni, I come not to dispute but execute : 
And thus comes death 1 [Another pane. 

Guu And thus I breake thy dart. Her 's at thy whores 

Oni. 'Tis mist. Here's at thy heart! Stay, let us 

Gui, Let reason goveme rage, yet let us leave ; 
Although most wrong be mine, I can forgive. 
In this attempt thy shame wiU ever live. 

Gni, Thou hast wrong'd the Phenix of all women 
rarest — 
She that 's most wise, most loving, chaste, and fiedrest. 

(hii. Thou dotest upon a divell, not a woman. 
That ha's bewitcht thee with her sorcerie. 
And drown'd thy soule in leathy faculties. 
Her uselesse lust has benumb'd thy knowledge ; 
Thy intellectuall powers, oblivion smothers. 
That thou art nothing but forgetftdnesse. 

Gni. TV hat's this to my Isabella f My sinnes mine 
Her faults were none, untill thou madest 'em knowne. 

GuL Leave her, and leave thy shame where first thou 
found'st it ; 
Else live a bondslave to diseased lust, 
Bevour'd in her gulfe-like appetite. 
And infamy shall writ thy epitaph ; 
Thy memory leaves nothing but thy crimes — 
A scandall to thy name in future times. 

GnL Put up your weapon; I dare heare you further. 
Insatiate lust is sire still to murther. 


G^i, Beleeve it, friend, if her heart bloud were vext. 
Though you kill me, new pleasure makes you next. 
She loy'd me deerer tjien she loves you now ; 
Shee '11 nere be faithfull, has twice broke her vow. 
This curse pursues female adultery, 
,They '1 swimme through blood for sinnes variety; 
Their pleasure like a sea, groundlesse and wide, 
A womans lust was never satisfied. 

Gnu Feare whispers in my brest, I have a soule 
That blushes red for tendring bloudy facts. 
Forgive me, friend, if I can be forgiven ; 
Thy counsell is the path leades mee to heaven. 

Qui, I doe embrace thy reconciled love 

Oni. That death or danger now shall ne're remove. 
Goe tell thy Insatiate Countesse, Anna, 
We have escap't the snares of her false love. 
Vowing for ever to abandon her. 

GuL You have heard our resolution ; pray bee gone. 

Ann, My office ever rested at your pleasure ; 
I was the Indian, yet you had the treasure. 
My faction often sweates, and oft takes cold ; 
Then guild true diligence o'er with gold. ' 

Gui, Thy speech deserv's it. There 's gold ; 

[Gives her gold. 
Be honest now, and not loves noddy, 
Tum'd up and plaid on whilst thou keepe'st the stocke. 
Prethe formsQly let 's ha thy absence. 

Ann. Lords, farewell. \Exit Anna. 

Gui, Tis whores and panders that makes earth like 
' hell. 

Gni, Now I am out of lusts laborinth, 
I will to Venice for a certaine time. 


To recreate my much-abused spirits, 
And then revisit Pavi and my friend. 

Guu He bring you on your way, but must retume ; 
Love is -^tna, and will ever burne. 
Yet now desire is quencb't flames once in height : 
Till man knowes hell he never has firme faith. 

[Exeunt ambo. 

Enter Isabella running, and Anna.' 

Im. Out, scrich-owle messenger of my revenges death I 
Thou do'st belye Gniaca ; 'tis not so. 

Ann, Upon mine honesty^ they are united. 

/«a. Thy honesty ?— thou vassaile to my pleasure, take 
that ! [Strikei her, 

Dar'st thou control me when I say no ? 
Art not my foote stoole — did not I create thee. 
And made the gentle, being borne a begger P 
Thou hast beene my womans pander for a crownd, 
And dost thou stand upon thy honesty P 

Ann, I am what you please, madam ; yet 'tis so. 

Isa, Slave, I will slit thy tongue, lesse thou say noe I 

Ann. No, no, no, madam. 

ha, I have my humour, though they now be false. 
Faint-hearted coward, get thee from my sight, 
When villaine P Hast, and oome not nere me. 

Ann, Maddam, I run; her sight like death doth feare 
me. [Exit, 

Isa, Perfidious coward, staine of nobility, 
YeneciaDS, and be reooncil'd with words ! 
O that I had Gniaca once more here. 
Within this prison made of flesh and bone, 
I'de not trust thunder with my fell revenge. 


But mine owne hands should doe the dire exploit, 
And fame should chronicle a woman's acts ! 
My rage respects the persons, not the facts : 
Their place and worths hath power to defame me ; 
Meane hate is stinglesse, and does only name mee : 
I not regard it. "lis high bloud that swels, 
Give me revenge, and damne me into heh ! 

Elder Don Sago a Corofiell, with a band of Souldiera and 
a Lieutenant, 

A gallant Spaniard, 1 will heare him speake ; 
Griefe must be speechlesse, ere the heart can breake ! 

Sago, Lieutenant, let good discipline be us'd 
In quartring of our troops within the dtie — 
Not separated into many streetes. 
That showes weake love, but not sound policie : 
Division in small numbers makes all weake ; 
Forces united are the nerves of warre. 
Mother and nurse of observation — 
Whose rare ingenious spright fils al the world, 
By looking on itselfe with pielcing eyes — 
Will looke through strangers imbecilities. 
Therefore be carefull. 

Lie. All shall be ordred fitting your command, 
For these three giftes which makes a souldier rare. 
Is love and dutie with a valiant care. 

[Exeunt Litft. and Souldiers, 

Sago, What rarietie of women feeds my sight. 
And leades my sences in a maze of wonder ? [See9 her, 
Bellona, thou wert my mistris till I saw that shape ; 
But now my sword He consecrate to her. 
Leave Mars and become Cupids m^rtialist. 

172 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E, [act iv. 

Beauty can tume the rugged face of Wane, 

And make him smile upon delightful! Peace, 

Courting her smoothly like a femallist. 

I grow a slave unto my potent love^ 

Whose power change hearts, make our fate remove. 

Isa, Revenge, not pleasure, now ore-rules my blood ; 
Eage shall drown faint love in a criinson flood ; 
And were he caught, I'de make him murders hand ! 

Sago, Me thinkes 'twere joy to die at her command. 
He speake to beare her speech, whose powerfull breath 
Is able to infuse life into death. 

laa. He comes to speake : hee *s mine— by love he is 

Sago, Lady, thinke bold intrusion curtesie ; 
Tis but imagination alters them ; ' 

Then 'tis your thoughts, not I, that doe offend. 

Zw. Sir, your intrusion yet 's but curtesie, 
Uulesse your future humor alter it. 

Sago, Why then, divinest woman, know thy soule 
Is dedicated to thy shrine of beauty. 
To pray for mercy, and repAit the wrongs 
Done against love and femall purity. 
Thou abstract, drawue from natures empty storehouse, 
I am thy slave ; command my sword, my heart ; ' 
The soule is tri'd best by the bodies smart ! 

I8a, You are a stranger to this land and me. 
What madnesse ist for me to trust you then ? 
To cosen women is a trade 'mongst men ; 
Smooth promise, faint passion, with a lye, 
Deceives our sect of fame and chastity. 
What danger durst you hazard for my love ? 

Sago, Perils that ever inortall durst approve. 


lie double all the workes of Hercules, 

Expose my selfe in combat 'against an hoste, 

Meete danger in a place of certaine death, 

Yet never shrinke, or give way to my fate ; 

Bare-brested meete the murderous Tartars dart. 

Or any fatall engin made for death : 

Such power has love and beauty from your eyes. 

He that dyes resolute does never die ! 

Tis feare gives death his strength, which I resisted. 

Death is but empty aire the fates have twisted. 

ha. Dare you revenge my quarrell 'gainst a foe ? 

8a{/o, Then aeke me if I dare embrace you thus. 
Or kisse your hand, or gaze on your bright eye, 
Where Cupid dances one those globes of love 1 
Feare is my vassall ; when I frowne he flyes ; 
A htmdred times in life a coward dyes l) 

ha. I not suspect your valour, but your will. 

Sago, To gaine your love my fathers blood ile spill. 

ha. Many have swome the like, yet broke their vow. 

Sago, My whole endevour to your wish shall bow ; 
I am your plague to scourge your enemyes. 

ha. Performe your promise, and enjoy your pleasure ; 
Spend my loves dowry, that is womens treasure ; 
But if thy resolution dread the tryall, 
Ile tell the world a Spaniard was disloyall. 

Sago, Kelate your griefe ; I long to heare their names 
Whose bastard spirits thy true worth defames. 
Ile wash thy scandall off when their hearts bleeds ; 
Valour makes difference betwixt words and deedes. 
Tell thy fames poyson, blood shall wash thee white. 

Isa. My spotlesse honour is a slave to spite. 

174 INSATIATE 00UNTES8E. [act iv. 

These are the monsters Yenice doth bring forth, 
Whose empty soules are bankerupt of true worth : 
False Count Guido, treacherous Gniaca, 
Countesse of Gazia, and of rich Massino. 
Then, if thou beest a knight, helpe the opprest ; 
Through danger safety comes, through trouble rest. 
And so my love 

Sago, Ignoble villainesl their best blood shall prove, 
Bevenge fals heavy that is rais'd by love I . 

Im, Thinke what reproach is to a womans name, 
Honor'd by birth, by marriage, and by beauty ; 
Be god one earth, and revenge innocence. 
0, worthy Spaniard, one my knees I begge, 
Forget the persons, thinke on their offence 1 

Sago, By the white soule of honour, by heav'ns Jove, 
They die if their death can attaine your love ! 

laa. Thus will I clip thy waste — embrace thee thus ; 
Thus dally with thy haire, and kisse thee tiius : 
Our pleasures, Prothean-like, in sundry shapes 
Shall with variety stirre dalianoe. 

Sago. I am inmiortall. O, devinest creature. 
Thou do'st excell the gods in wit and feature ! 
False counts, you die, Eevenge now shakes his rods ; 
Beautie condemnes you — stronger then the gods. 

Isa, Come, Mars of lovers, Vulcan is not here ; 
Make vengeance, like my bed, quite voide of feare. 

Sago. My sences are intranst, and in this slumber 
I taste heav'ns joyes, but cannot count the number. 

\Exit ambo. 


Enter Lady Lentulub, Abigall, and Thais. 

Abi, Well, madam, you see the destinie tliat foUowes 
manage : 
Our husbands are quiet now, and must suffer the law. 

Tha, If my husband had beene worth the begging, some 
courtier woidd have had him; he might be beg'd well 
inough, for he knowes not his owne wife from another. 

Lady Lent O, you 'r a couple of trusty wenches, to 
deceive your husband^ thus 1 

AbL If wee had not deceiv'd them thus, we had been 
trust wenches. 

Tha, Our husbands will be hang'd, because they thinke 
themselves cuckolds. 

Abi, If all true cuckolds were of that minde, the 
hangman would be the richest occupation, and more 
wealthie widdowes then there be yonger brothers to marry 

Tha, The marchant venturers would be a very small 

Abi, 'Tis twelve to one of that, how ever the rest scape. 
I 9hall feare a massacre. 

Tha, If my husband hereafter, for his wealth, chance to 
be dub'd, I 'le have him cal'd the Knight of the supposed 

AbL Faith, and it sounds well. 

Lady Lent, Gome, madcaps, leave jesting, and let 's 
deliver them out of their earthly purgation ; you are the 
spirits that torment them ; but my love and lord, kinde 
Mendosa, will loose his life to preserve mine honour, not 
for hate to others. 

Abi, By my troth, if I had beene his judge, I should 

176 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act iv. 

have hang'd him for having no more wit ; I speake as I 
thinke, for I would not be hang'd for ne'er a man under 
the heav'ns. 

Tha, Faith, I thinke I should for my husband : I doe 
not hold the opinion of the philosopher, that writes, we 
love them best that we injoy first ; for I protest I love my 
husband better then any that did know me before. 

AH, So doe I; yet life and pleasure are two sweet 
things to a woman. 

Lady Lent He that 's willing to die to save mine honor, 
I 'le die to save his. 

Abu But, beleeve it who that list, wee love a lively 
man, I grant you ; but to mintaine that life I 'le ne're 
consent to die. 

This is a rule I still will keepe in brest. 
Love weU thy husband, wench, but thy selfe best ! 

Tha, I have followed your oounsell hetherto, and meane 
to doe still. 

Lady L, Come, we neglect our businesse ; 'tis no jesting ; 
To-morrow they are executed leasse we reprive them. 
Wee be their destinies to cast their fate. 
Let 's all goe. 

Abi. I feare not to come late. \Exeunt. 

Enter Don Sago solm, with a case ofpUtols, 

Sago, Day was my night, and night must be iny day ; 
The sunne shin'd on my pleasure with my love, 
And darknesse must lend aide to my revenge. 
The stage of heav'n is hung with solemne black, 
A time best fitting to act tragedies. 
The nights great queene, that maiden govemesse. 
Musters black clouds to hide her from the world, 


Afraide to looke on my bold enterprise. 

Curs'd creatures, messengers of death, possesse the viot\A \ 

Night-ravens, scritch-owles, and vote-killing mandrakes, 

The ghosts of misers, that imprison'd'gold 

Within the harmelesse bowels of the earth. 

Axe nights companions. Bawdes to lust and murder, 

Be all propitious to me act of justice 

Upon the scandalizers of her fame. 

That is the life-blood of deliciousnesse, 

Deem'd Isabella, Cupids treasurer, 

Whose soide containes the richest gifts of love -. 

Her beautie from my heart feare doth expel : 

They rellish pleasure best that dread not hell ! 

Who's there? 

Enter Count Eogero. 

Rog, A Mend to thee, if thy intents be just and honor- 

Sago, Count Eogero, speake, I am the watch. 

Rog, My name is Rogero : do'st thou know me ? 

Sago. Yes, slanderous villaine, nurse of obloquie. 
Whose poison'd breath has speckl'd deane-fac't vertue, 
And made a leper of Isabella's fame. 
That I is as spotlesse as the eye of heaven ! 
Thy vittaU threds a cutting ; start not, slave ; 
Hee 's sure of sudden death, Heaven cannot save ! 

Bog. Art not Gniaca tum'd apostata? Has pleasure 
once againe tumd thee againe a divell ? art not Gniaca — 

Sago. O that I were, then would I stab myselfe, 
For he is mark't for death as well as thee ! 
I am Pon Sago, thy mortall enemye. 
Whose hand love makes thy executioner ! 

III. 12 

180 INSATIATE C0UNTM8SE. [act v. 


Mter Medina, the dead body of Guido aliaa Count 
Absena, and Souldiours; Bon Sago guarded^ Exe- 
cutioner, Scaffold, 

Med, y^g^ ON SAGO, quak'st thou not to behold 
this spectacle — 
This innocent sacrifice, murdrednoblenes':' 
' When bloud the maker ever promiseth. 
Shall, though with slow yet with sure vengeance rest. 
'Tis a guerdon eam'd, and must be paide ; 
As sure revenge, as it is sure a deede ; 
I ne'r knew murder yet, but it did bleed. 
Canst thou, after so many fearfull conflicts 
Betweene this object and thy guilty conscience. 
Now thou art freed from out the serpents jawes. 
That vilde adultresse, whose sorceries 
Doth draw chast men into incontinence — 
Whose tongue flowes over with harmefull eloquence — 
Canst thou, I say, repent this hainous act. 
And leame to loath that killing cockatrice ? 

Sago, By this flesh blood, that from thy manly breast 
I cowardly sluct out, I would in hell. 
From this sad minute till the day of doom. 
To re-inspire vaine iEsculapius, 
And fill these crimson conduits, feele the fire 
Due to the damned, and his horrid fact I 


Copt, 'Tis Count Bogero ; goe convey him hence ; 
Thy life, proud Spaniard, answeres this offence. 
A strong guard for the prisoner, lesse the cities powers 
Bise to rescue him. \Begirt Him with Souldiours, 

Sago. What needs this strife ? 
Know, slaves, I prize revenge above my life. 
Fames register to fdture times shall tel 
That by Don Sago, Count Bogero fell ! 

[Exeunt omnes. 

«!J» «!J» «y y^ y^ 
«!J» «y «J* 

182 INSATIATE CQUNTE88E. [act ▼. 

if«i. O Heayens I 
Is she Dot wearie yet of \mi aad life P 
Had it bin Cxessus wealth* she should haTe died ; 
Her goods by law are all confiscate to us» 
And die she shall : her lu9t 
Would make a slaughter-house of Italy. 
Ere she attain'd to foure^and-tweaty yeeres. 
Three carles, one vieount, and this YcQiaat Spaniard, 
Are knowne to a beene the fdell of to her lust ; 
Besides her secret lovers, which charitably 
I judge to hare beene but few, but some they were. 
Here ia a glasae wherein to yifiw her aoule, 
A noble but unfortunate gentleman, 
Cropt by her hand, as some rude passenger 
Doth plucke the tender roses in the bndde ! 
Murder and lust, tilie least of which is death. 
And hath she yet any false hope of ln«atli? 

Enter Isabella, with her haire hanging downe, a choflet 
of flowers on her head^ a nosegay in her hand; Exe- 
cutioner before her, and mth her a Cardinajl, 

ha. What place is this? 

Car, Madam, the Castle Greene. 

Isa, There should be dancing on a greenc, I thinke. 

Car, Madam, to you noue other then your dance of 

I9a, Good, my Lord CardJnall, doe not thunder thns ; 
I -saii to-day to my phisician, 
And as he says, he findes no ngne of death. 

Car, Good madame, doe not jest away your soale. 

I9a, O servant, how hast thou betrai'd my life I 

[3b Sago. 


Thou art my dearest lover now, I see; 
Thou wilt not leave me till my very death. 
Bless't by thy hand 1 I sacrifice a kisse 
To it and vengeance. Worthily thou didst ; 
He died deservedly. Not content to injoy 
My youth and beauty, riches and my fortune, 
But like a chronicler of his owne vice, 
In epigrams and songs he tun'd my name, 
Benown'd me for a strumpet in the courts 
Of the French King and the great Emperor. 
Dids thou not kill him druncke. 

Med, O shamelesse woman 1 

Isa. Thou shouldest, or in the emhrtcea of his lu0t ; 
It might have beene a womans vengeance. 
Yet I thanke thee, Sago, and would not wish him living 
Were my life instant ransome. 

Car, Madame, in your soule have charitie. 

Isa, Ther 's money for the poore. \Oit$s him money. 

Car, loidy, this is but a branch of charitie, 
An ostentation, or a liberall pride : 
Let me instruct your soule, for that, I fear^, 
Within the painted sepulcher of flesh. 
Lies in a dead oonsumptiion. Good madame, read. 

\Qive» a booke. 

Isa. Ton put me to my book, my lord ; will not that 
save me P 

Car. Yes, madam, in the everlasting world. 

Sago, Amen, amen 1 

ha. While thou wert my servant, thou has ever said 
Amen to all my wishes. Witn^se this spectacle. 
Where 's my Lord Medina ? 

Med. Here, Isabella. What would you? 

184 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act v. 

I%a, May we not be repriv'd ? 

Med. Mne honors past ; you may not 

ha. No, tis my honor past. 

Med, Thine honors past, inded. 

ha. Then there 's no hope of absolute remission ? 

Med. For that your holy confessor will tell you ; 
Be dead to this world, for I sweare you dye, 
Were you my fathers daughter. 

laa. Can you doe nothing, my Lord Oai-dinall? 

Car. More then the world, sweet lady ; helpe to sav6 
what hand of man wants a power to destroy. 

ha. You 'r all for this world, then why not I ? 
Were you in health and youth, like me, my lord. 
Although you merited the crowne of life, 
And stood in state of grace asur'd of it. 
Yet in this fearefull separation. 
Old as you are, e'ne till your latest gaspe 
You'd crave the help of the phisition. 
And wish your dayes lengthn'd one summer longer. 
Though all be griefe, labour, and misery. 
Yet none will part with it, that I can see. 

Med. Up to the scaffold with her, 'tis late. 

Isa. Better late then never, my good lord ; you thinke 
You use square dealing, Medina's mighty duke : 
Tyrant of France, sent hither by the divell. 

\8he ascenda'the scaffold. 

Med. The fitter to meete you. 

Car. Peace 1 Good my lord, in death doe not provoke 

laa. Servant, low as my destiny I kneele to thee, 

\To Sago. 
Honouring in death thy manly loyaltie ; 


And what so e'er become of my poore soule, 

The joyes of both worlds evermore be thine. 

Commend me to the noble Count Gniaca, 

That should have shared thy valour and my hatred : 

Tell him I pray his pardon. And 

Medina, art yet inspired from heav'n ? 

Shew thy Creators image : be like him, 

Father of mercy. 

Med. Head's man, doe thine office. 

Isa. Now God lay thy sinnes upon thy head, 
And sinke thee with them to infemall darknesse. 
Thou teacher of the furies cruelty ! 

Car, O madame, teach your selfe a better prayer ; 
This is your latest hower. 

Isa, He is mine enemie, his sight torments me ; 
I shall not die in quiet. 

Med, I le be gone : off with her head there ! [Exit. 

laa, Tak'st thou delight to torture misery P 
Such mercie finde thou in the day of doome. 

Souh My lord, here is a holy frier desires 
To have some conference with the prisoners. 

Enter Robeeto Qount of dpres, in friers weeds. 

Bob. It is in private, what I have to sayj 
With faviour of your father-hood. 

Car. Frier, in Gods name, welcome. 

pSoberto ascends to Isabella. 

Bob. Lady, it seemes your eye is still the same — 
Forgetfull of what most it should behold. 
Doe not you know me, then ? 

Isa. Holy sir, so farre you are gone from my memorie, 
I must take truce with time ere I can know you. 

186 IN8JTUTJS COTJNmSBS. [act v. 

Uoh, Beare record all* you blessed saints in hea^'n, 
I come not to torment thee in thy death ; 
For of himselfe hee 's terrible enough. 
But call to miude a ladie like your sdfe; 
And thinke how ill in such a beauteous sonje, 
Ulkm the instant monow of her nuj^ials, 
Apostasie and yilde revolt would shew : 
With all imagine that she had a lord. 
Jealous the aire shonld ravish her chaste lookes : 
Doating like tiie creatcnr in his models. 
Who viewes them every minute, and with care 
Mixt in his feare of their obedience to him. 
Suppose he sung through famous Italy, 
More common then the looser songs of Petrarch, 
To every leverall Zanies instrument. 
And he, poore wretch, hoping some better fate 
Might call her back from her adulterate purpose, 
lives in obscure and almost unknowne life. 
Till hearing that she is condemn'd to die«^ 
For he onoe Wd her-^lends his pined corps 
Motion to bring him tp her stage of honour. 
Where drown'd in woe at her so dismall chance^ 
He claspes her : thus he fals into a trance. 

Isa. O, my offended brd, lift up your eyes : 
But yet avert them from my loathed sight. 
Had I with you injoyed the lawfiiU pleasure. 
To which bebngs nor feare nor publike shame, 
I might have liv'd in honour, died in &me I 
Tour pardon on my faultring knees I begge. 
Which shall confirme more peace unto my death 
Then all the grave instructions of the church. 

Bjob. Pardon belongs unto my holy weeds, 


Freely thou hast it. Eafewell, my Isabella 1 

Let thy death ransome thy soule. O die a rare example ! 

The Idsse thou gav'st me m the church, here take ; 

As I leave thee, so thou the world forsake 1 [Eas^ Boberto. 

Cla. Bare accident,, ill welcome, aoble lord. 
Madam, your executioner dealrea you to forgive him* 

Im. Yes, and give him too. What must I doe, my 

Exee, Madame, only tie up your haire. 

ha, O, these golden nets, 
That have insnar'd so many wanton youthes, 
Not one but ha's beene held a thred of life, 
And superstitiously depended on. 
Now to the block we must vaile 1 ' What else ? 

Exec^ Madame, I must intreat you, blind your eyes. 

ha. I have lived too long in darknesse, my friend ; 
And yet mine eies, with their majesticque Ught, 
Have got new muses in a poets spright. 
They have beene more gazed at then the god of day : 
Their brightnes never could be flattered, 
Yet thou command'st a fixed cloud of lawne 
To ecdipse eternally these minutes of light. 
What else P 

Exec, Now, madame, al 's done. 
And when you please, I le execute my office. 
• laa. We will be for thee straight. 
Give me your blessing, my Lord Cttrdinall. 
Lord, I am well prepared : 
Murder and lust, downe with my ashes sinke. 
But, like ingratefull seede, perish in the earth. 
That you may never spring up against my soule. 
Like weedes to ehoake it in the heavenly harvest. 

188 INSATIATE C0UNTE88E. [act v. 

1 1 fall to rise ; mount to thy Maker, spirit ! 
/ Leave here thy body, death ha's her demerit. Strike ! 
Car, A host of angels be thy convey hence. 
Med, To fnnerall with her body ; and this, lords : 
None here, I hope, can taxe us of injustice : 
She died deservedly, and may like fate 
Attend all women so insatiate. [Exeunt omnes. 

Enter Amago the Duke, the Watch, and Senators, 

Duke, I am amazed ^t this maze of wonder. 
Wherein no thred or due presents itselfe. 
To winde us from the obscure passages. 
What sales my nephew ? 

Watch, Still resolve, my lord, and doth confesse the theft. 

Duke, Wee '11 use him like a fellon ; cut him off. 
For feare he doe poUute our sounder parts. 
Yet why should he steale. 
That is a loaden vine P Eiches to him 
Were adding sands into the Libian shore. 
Or farre lesse charitie. What say the other prisoners ? 

Waich, Like men, my lord, fit for the other world. 
They tak 't upon their death, they slew your nephew. 

Duke, And he is yet alive ; keepe them asunder ; 
We may sent out the wile. 

Enter Clabidiana and Eogebo hound; within. 
Frier and Officers, 

Bog. My friend, is it the rigour of the law 
I should be tied thus hard, He under goe it ; 
If not, prethee then slacken ; Yet I have deserv'd it ; 
This murder lies heavie on my conscience. 


Cla, Wedlocke, I, here 's my wedlocke ! whore, whore, 
whore I 

Erier, 0, sir, be quallified. 

Cla, Sir, I am to die a dogges death, and will snarle a little 
At the old segnior. You are onely a parenthesis, 
Which I will leave out of my execrations ; but first 
To our quondam wives, that makes us cry our vowels 
In red capitall letters, lou are cuckoldes ! O may 
Bastard-bearing, with the panges of childbirth, be 
Doubled to him ! May they have ever twins. 
And be three weeke in travell betweene ! May thy be 
So rivell'd with painting by that time they are thirty, that it 
May be held a work of condigne merit 
But to looke upon 'em I May they live 
To ride in triumph in a dung-cart. 
And be brown'd with al the odious ceremonies belonging 

May the cucMng-stoole be their recreation. 
And a dongeon their dying chamber ! 
May they have nine lives like a cat, to endure this and 

May they be burnt for witches of a sudden ! 
And lastly, may the opinion of philosophers 
Prove true, that women have no soules ! 

Enter Thais and Abigall. 

Tha, What, husband — at your prayers so seriously ? 

Cla. Tes, a few orisons. Frier, thou that stand'st 
The soules of men and the divell, 
Keepe these female spirits away. 
Or I will renounce my faith else. 

190 nrsjTiATE oomrrsmn. ^ [act t. 

Abi. Oh^ hndband, t little thought to dee you in this 

Eog, whore, I little thought to 86e you in this ttiking ! 
I am govemour of this castle of comets ; 
My grave will be fttumbl'd at, thou adultmt whoire ! 
I might have My'd like a marchant. 

AU. So you may still, husband. 

Hog, Peace ! thou art verie quicke with me. 

AH. I, by my faith, and so I am, husband ; 
Belike you know I am with child. 

Bog, A bastard, a bastard, a bastard ! 
1 might have liy'd like a gentleman, 
And now I must die like a hanger on, 
Shew trickes upon a woodden horse. 
And runne through an alphabet of scnrvie faces ! 
Doe not expect a good looke from me. 

AU, O mee unfortunate ! 

Cla. O to thinke, whil'st we are singing the last hymne. 
And readie to be tumd off. 
Some new tune is inventing by some metermonger, 
To a scurvie ballad of our death ! 
Againe, at our fimerall sermons, 
To have the divine divide his text into faire branches ! 
Oh, flesh and bloud cannot indure it I ' 

Yet I will take it patiently like a grave man. 
Hangman, tie not my halter of a true-lovers knot : 
I shall burst it if thou doost. 

Tha, Husband, I doe beseech you on my knees, 
I may but speake with you. I 'le winne your pardon, 
Or with teares, like Niobe, bedew a. 

Cla, Hold thy water, crocodile, and say I am boimd 
To doe thee no harme ; were I free, yet I could not 


Be looset t]ien tliou ; for th6ii &d a whore ! 

Agamemnons daughter, that was sacrific'd 

For a good winde, felt but a blast of the t6rm6tits 

Thou should'st indure ; I 'de make thee STTownd 

Oftener then that fellow that by Ids continuall practise 

Hopes to become drum-major. 

What saist thou to tickling to death With bodkins? 

But thou hast laught too much at me alreadid, whore 1 

Justice, duke 1 and let me not hang in sudpence. 

AH, Husband, I 'le naile me to the earth, but I 'k 
Winne your pardon. 

My jewels, jointure, all I have shall flye ; 
Apparell, bedding, I le not leave a rugge, 
So you may come off fairely. 

CUt, I le come off fairely. Then beg my pardon ; 
I had rather Chirurgions Hall should begg^ my dead bodie 
For an anatomic, then thou begge my Ufe. 
Justice, O duke ! and let us die ! 

Duke, Signior, thinke, and daily not with heaven. 
But freely tell us, did you doe the murther ? 

Bog, I have confest it to my ghostly father. 
And done the sacrament of penance for it. 
What would your highnesse more ? 

Cla, The like have I; what would your highnesse- 
And here before you all tak' to my death. 

Duke, In Gods name, then, on to the death with them; 
For the poore widdowes that you leave behinde. 
Though by the law their goods are all confiscate. 
Yet wee 'U be their good lord, and give 'em them. 

Cla, O, hell of hels! Why did not we hire some 
villaine to fire our houses ? 

192 INSATIATE C0UNTE88B. [act v. 

Bog, I thought not of that ; my minde was altogether 
of the gallowes. 

da. May the wealth I leave behinde me helpe to 
damne her ! 
And as the cursed fate of curtezan, 
What she gleanes with her traded art. 
May one, as a most due plague, cheat from 
In the last dotage of her tired lust. 
And leave her an unpittied age of woe ! 

Bog. Amen, amen ! 

Watch. I never heard men pray more fervently. 

Bog. O that a man had the instinct of a lyon ! 
He knowes when the lionesse plaies fals to him. 
But these solaces, these women. 
They bring man to gray haires before he be thirtie ; 
Yet they cast out such mistes of flatterie from their 

That a mans lost againe. Sure I fell' into my marriage 

bed drunke. 
Like the leopard; well, with sober eyes, would I had 

avoided it ! 
Come, grave, and hide me from my blasted fame. 
O that thou couldst as well conceale my shame ! 

[Exeunt amho^ with Officers, 

Tha, Your pardon and your favour, gracious duke, 

[fFbmen kneele. 
At once we doe implore, that have so long 
Deceiv'd your royall expectation, 
Assur'd that the comick knitting up 
WiU move your spleene uuto the proper use 
Of mirth, your naturall inclination ; 
And wipe away the watery cholored anger 


From your inforced cheeke. 

Faire lord, beguile 

Them and your saf t with a pleasing smile. 

Duke. Now by my life I doe, faire ladies, rise. 
I ne'er did purpose any other end 
To them and these designes. 
I was inform'd 

Of some notorious errour as T sate in judgment ; 
And, doe you heere ? — these night workes require a cats 

To impierce dejected darknesse. Call backe the prisoners. 
Enter Claridiana and Eogerq, toith Officers. 

da. Now what other troubled newes. 
That we must back thus ? 
Has any senator beg'd my pardon 
Upon my wives prostitution to him ? 

Bog. What a spight 's this ; I had kept in my breath of 
purpose, thinking to goe away the quieter, and must we 
now backe ? 

Diike. Since you are to die, wee '11 give you winding- 
Wherein you shall be shrouded alive, 
By which we winde out all these miseries, 
Segnior Bogero, bestow a while your eye, 
And reade here of your true wives chastity. 

[Givea him a letter. 

Bog. Chastitie ? I will sooner expect a Jesuites recanta- 
Or the great Turkes conversion, then her chastitie. 
Pardon, my leige ; I will not trust mine eyes : 
Women and divels will deceive the wise ! 

III. 18 

194 INSATIATE C0UNTES8E. [act v. 

D%^. The like, sir, is apparaat on your side. 

[To tQtker. 
Cla. Who? mj wifeP'^^-Kihaste? Ha's your grace your 
I 'le sooner beleeve 

A conjurer may say his prayers with zeale. 
Then her honestie. Had she been an hermaphrodite, 
I would scarce hath given credit to you. 
Let him that hath drunke love drugs trust a woman. 
By Heaven, I thinke the aire is not more common ! 

Luke, Then we impose a strict command upon you. 
On your allegeance, reade what there is writ. 
Cla, A writ of errour, on my life, my liege ! 
Duke. You 'le finde it so, I feare. 
da. What have we here — the Art of Brachigraphy ? 

Tha, Hee's stung already, as if his eyes were tum'd on 
Persies shield. 
There motion is fixt, like to the pbole of Stix. 

AH. Tenders our flames ; and from the hollow arches 
Of his quick eyes comes commet traines of fire, 
Bursting like hidden furies from their caves. \Eeades. 
Tout's till he sleepe the sleepe of all 
The world, Rogero. 
Bog. Marry, and that lethergie seize you! Beade 

Cla, Thy servant so made by his stars, Bogero. 

[Reads againe. 
A fire on your wandring starres, Bogero ! 
Bog. Sathan, why hast thou tempted my wife ? 

[To Glaridiana. 
Cla. Peace, seducer ; I am branded in the forehead > 


With your starre-mAtke. May the starres drop upon thee, 
And with their sulphure vapours choake thee, ere thou 
Come at the gallowes ! 

Bog. Stretch not my patience, Mahomet. ^ 

Cla. Termagant, that will stretch thy patience I 

Hog. Had I knowne this I would We poison'd thee 
in the chalice 
This morning, when we receaved the sacrament. 

Cla. Slave, knowst thou this P tis an appendix to the 
letter ; 
But the greater temptation is hidden within. 
I will scowre thy gorge like a hawke : thou shalt swallow 
thine owne stone in this letter, \They hmtU. 

Seal'd and delivered in the presence of — — 

Buhe. Keepe them asunder ; list to us, we command — 

Cla. violent villayne ! is not thy hand hereto. 
And writ in bloud to shew thy raging lust ? 

Tha. Spice of a new halter, when you go a ranging 
thus like devills, would you might bume for 't as they 
doe I 

Itjog. Thus tis to lye with another mans wife : 
He shal be sure to heare on 't againe. 
But we are Mends, sweet duke. [£M«e hw. 

And this shall be my maxime all my life, 
Man never happy is till in a wife. 

Cla. Here sunke our hate lower then any whirlepoole ; 
And this chaste kisse I give thee for thy care ; \Kme, 
That fame of women. Mi as wise as faire. 

Duke. You have saved us a labour in your love. 
But, gentlemen, why stood you so prepostrously ? 
Would you have headlong runne to infamy-^ 
In so defam'd a death ? 


Boff. O, my liege, I had rather rore to death with Pha- 
leras bull, then, Darius-like, to have one of my wings 
extend to Atlas, the other to Europe. 

What is A cuckold, leame of me : 

Few can tell his pedigree. 

Nor his subtill nature conster. 

Borne a man, but dyes a monster. 

Yet great antiquaryes say, 

They spring from our Methusala, 

Who after Noahs flood was found 

To have his crest with branches crown'd. 

God in Edens happy shade 

This same creature made. 

Then to cut off all mistaking, 

Cuckolds are of womens making ; 

From whose snares, good Lord deliver us 1 
Cla. Amen, amen 1 
Before I would prove a cuckold, I would indure a winters 
pilgrimage in the frozen !6one — ^goe starke naked through 
Muscovia, where the climate is nine degrees colder then 

And thus much to all marry ed men: 

Now I see great reason why 

Love should marry jelousie : 

Since mans best of life is fame. 

He hath neede preserve the same ; 

When tis in a womans keeping, 

Let not Argos eyes be sleeping. 

The poxe is unto panders given 

By the better powers of heaven. 

That contaynes pure chastity, 

And each virgin soveraignety, 


Wantondy she op't and lost, 

Gift whereof a god might boast. 

Therefore, shouldst thou Diana wed, 

Yet be jealons of her bed. 
Duke. Night, like a masque, is entred heavens great hall, 
With thousand torches ushering the way : 
To Bisus will wee consecrate this evening. 
Like Missermis cheating of the brack, 
Weele make this night the day. Faire joyes befall 
Us and our actions. Are you pleased all ? 

[Exeunt omnes. 





Certaine Satyees, 
Bt Iohn Marston. 

S^ At London : Printed for Edmond Matts, and are to be sold 
at the Bigne of the Hand and Plough in Eleet-streete. 1 5 9 8. 




Sole Begent of Affection, perpetuall Euler of Judgement, 
most famous Justice of Censures, only Giver of Honor, 
great Procurer of Advancement, the worlds chiefe 
ballance, the all of all, and all in all, by whom aU 
things are yet that they are, I humbly offer thys my 

THOU soule of pleasure, honors only substance, • 
Great arbitrator, umpire of the earth. 
Whom fleshly epicures call vertues essence ; 
Thou mooving orator, whose powrefuU breath 
Swaies all mens judgement — Great Opinion, 
Youchsafe to guild my imperfection. 

If thou but daine to grace my blushing stile. 

And crowne my muse with good opinion ; 

If thou vouchsafe with gracious eye to smile 

Upon my young new-born invention, 

lie sing an hymne in honour of thy name. 
And add some trophic to enlarge thy fame. 

But if thou wilt not with thy deitie 

Shade and inmaske the errors of my pen. 

Protect an orphane poets infancie, 

I will disclose, that all the world shall ken 
How partiall thou art in honors giving. 
Crowning the shade, the substance praise deprivingl 

W. K. 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ Q0i ^ Q0i ^ tok ^ Q0i 


PIGMALION, whose chast mind all the beauties ii^ 
Cyprus could not ensnare, yet, at the length having 
carved in ivorie an excellent proportion of a beauteous 
woman, was so deeplie enamored on his owne workman- 
ship that he would oftentimes lay the image in bedde with 
him, and fondlie use such petitions and dalliance as if it 
had been a breathing creature. But in the end, finding 
his fond dotage, and yet persevering in his ardent affeor 
tion, made his devout prayers to Venus, that she would 
vouchsafe to enspire life into his love, and then joyne them 
both together in marriage. Whereupon, Venus graciously 
condiscending to Ids earnest sute, the mayde (by the power 
of her deitie) was metamorphosed into a living woman. 
And after, Pigmalion (beeing in Cyprus) begat a sonne of 
her, which was called Paphus; whereupon that iland 
Cyprus, in honor of Venus, was after, and is now, called 
by the inhabitants, Paphos. 


lljnr wanton muse lasciviously doth sing 
JLlX Of sportive love, of lovely dallying. 

beauteous angell! daine thou to infuse 
A sprightly wit into my dulled muse, 

1 iuYOoate none other saint but thee, 
To grace the first bloomes of my poesie. 
Thy favours, like Promethean sacred fire, 
In dead and dull conceit can life inspire ; 
Or, like that rare and rich elixar stone. 
Can turn to gold, leaden invention. 

Be gracious then, and daine to show in mee 

The mighty power of thy deitie ; 

And as thou read'st (faire) take compassion — 

Force me not envie my Pigmalion. 

Then when thy kindnes grants me such sweet blisse, 

Be gladly write thy Metamorphosis. 


'» mi i- 

iIGMALION, whose hie love-hating minde 
Disdain'd to yeeld servile affection 
Or amorous snte to any woman-kinde, 
Knowing their wants and mens perfection ; 
Yet love at length forc'd him to know his fate, 
And love the shade whose substance he did hate. 

For having wrought in purest ivorie 

So faire an image of a woman's feature. 

That never yet proudest mortalitie 

Could show so rare and beautious a creature 
(Unlesse my mistres all-excelling face, 
Which gives to beautie, beauties onely grace) — 

He was amazed at the wondrous rarenesse 

Of bis owne workmanships perfection. 

He thought that Nature nere produced such fairenes, 

In which all beauties have their mantion ; 
And, thus admiring, was enamored 
On that fayre image himselfe portraied. 


And naked as it stood before his eyes. 
Imperious Love declares his deitie. 
O what alluring beauties he descries 
In ^ch part of his fiure imagery 1 

Her nakednes each beauteous shape containes ; 

All beautie in her nakednes remaines. 

He thought he saw the blood run through the vaine 
And leape, and swell with all alluring meanes ; 
Then feares he is deceived, and then againe ■ 
He thinkes he see'th the brightnes of the beames 

Which shoote from out the fairenes of her eye ; 

At which he stands as in an extasie. 

Her amber-coloured, her shining haire, 
Makes him protest the sunne hath spread her head 
With golden beames, to make her farre more fedre. 
But when her cheeks his amorous thoughts have fed, 
Then he exclaimes, " Such redde and so pure white. 
Did never blesse the eye of mortal sight !'* 

Then views her lips, no lips did seeme so faire 
In his conceit, through which he thinks doth flie 
So sweet a breath, that doth perfume the ayre. 
Then next her dimpled chin he doth discry. 

And views and wonders, and yet views her still; 

"Loves eyes in viewing never have their fill." 

Her breasts like polisht ivory appeare. 
Whose modest mount doe blesse admiring eye, 
And makes him wish for such a pillowbeare. 
Thus fond Pigmalion striveth to discry 

Each beauteous part, not letting over-slip 
One parcell of his curious worlananship. 


Untill his eye discended so farre downe 

That it discried Loyes pavillion, 

Where Cupid doth enjoy his onely crowne, 

And Yenus hath her chiefest mantion : 

There would he wiuke, and winking looke againe, 
Both eyes and thoughts would gladly there remaine. 

"Who ever saw the subtile citty-dame 
In sacred church, when her pure thoughts shold pray, 
Feire through her fingers, so to hide her shame. 
When that her eye, her mind would faine bewray : 

So would he view and winke, and view againe ; 

A chaster thought could not his eyes retaine. 

He wondred that she blusht not when his eye 

Saluted those same parts of secrecie : 

Conceiting not it was imagerie 

That kindly yeeided that large libertie. 
O that my mistres were an image too, 
That I might blameles her perfections view ! 

But when the faire proportion of her thigh 

Began appeare, " Ovid!" would he cry, ^ 

" Did ere Corinna show such ivorie 

When she appeared in Venus livorie ?" 

And thus enamour'd dotes on his owne art 
Which he did work, to work his pleasing smart. 

And fondly doting, oft he kist her lip ; 

Oft would he dally with her ivory breasts ; 

No wanton love-trick would he over-slip. 

But still observ'd all amorous beheasts, 

Whereby he thought he might procure the love 
Of his dull image, which no plaints coulde move. 


v^ Looke how the peevish Papists croaeh and kneele 

To some dum idoll with their offering. 

As if a senceless carved stone conld feele 

The ardor of his booties diattering : 

So fond he was, and earnest in his sute 
To his remorsles image, dmn and mute. 

/ He oft doth wish his soule might part in sunder 

So that one halfe in her had residence ; 

Oft he exclaimes, '' O beauties onely wonder ! 

Sweet modell of delight, faire excellence. 
Be gracious unto him that formed thee, 
Compassionate his true loves ardende.'* 

She with her silence seemes to graunt his sute ; 
Then he all jocund, like a wanton lover, 
With amorous embracements doth salute 
Her slender wast, presuming to discover 
"- " The vale of Love, where Cupid doth delight 
To sport and dally all the sable night. 

His eyes her eyes kindly encountered ; 

His breast her breast oft joyned dose unto ; 

His armes embracements oft she suffered ; 

Hands, armes, eyes, tongue, lips, and all parts did woe ; 

His thigh with hers, his knee playd with her knee ; 

A happy consort when all parts agree I 

But when he saw, poor soule, he was deceaved 
(Yet scarce he could beleeve his sence had failed)— 
Yet when he found all hope from him bereaved. 
And saw how fondly all his thoughts had erred. 
Then did he like to poor Ldon seeme. 
That dipt a cloud in steede of Heavens Queene. 


I oft have smil'd to see the foolery 

Of some sweet youths, who seriously protest 

That love respects not actual luxury, 

But onely joys to dally, sport, and jest ; 
Love is a child, contented with a toy, 
A busk-point, or some favour still's the boy. 

Marke my Figmalion, whose affections ardor 

May be a mirror to posteritie ; 

Yet viewing, touching, kissing (common favour), 

Could never satiat his loves ardende : 

And therefore, ladies, thinke that they nere love you. 
Who do not unto more than kissing move you. 

For Pigmalion kist, viewd, and unbraced. 
And yet exclaimes, " Why were these women made, 
O sacred gods! and with such beauties graced? 
Have they not power as well to coole and shade, 
As for to heate mens harts ? Or is there none, 
Or are they aU, like mine — relentlesse stone?'* 

With that he takes her in his loving armes, 
And downe within a downe-bed softly iayd her ; 
Then on his knees he all his sences charmes, 
To invocate sweet Venus for to raise her v 
To wished life, and to infuse some breath 
To that which, dead, yet gave a life to death. 

" Thou sacred queene of sportive dallying" 

(Thus he begins) " Loves onely emperesse. 

Whose kingdome rests in wanton revelling. 

Let me beseech thee shew thy powerfiillnesse 

In changing stone to flesh ! Make her relent, 
And kindly yeeld to thy sweet blandishment. 



" gradoiLS gods, take compassion ; 

Instill into her some oelestiall fire, 

That she may equalize affection, 

And have a mutuall love, and loves desire ! 

Thou know'st the force of love, then pitty me — 
Compassionate my true loves ardencie." 

Thus having said, he riseth from the floore 

As if his soule divined him good fortune. 

Hoping his prayers to pitty moov'd some power ; 

For all his thoughts did all good luck importune ; , 
And therefore straight he strips him naked quite. 
That in the bedde he might have more delight. 

Then thus, ** Sweet sheetes," he sayes, " which nowe do 

The idol of my soule, the fairest one 
That ever lov'd or had an amorous lover — - 
Earths onely modeU of perfection — 

Sweet happy sheetes, daine for to take me in, 
. That I my hopes and longing thoughts may win ! " 

With that his nimble limbs doe kisse the sheetes. 
And now he bowes him for to lay him downe ; 
And now each part with her faire parts doe meet, 
Now doth he hope for to enjoy loves crowne ; 
Now do they dally, kisse, embrace together. 
Like Leda's twins at sight of fairest weather. 

Yet all 's conceit — ^but shadow of that blisse 
Which now my muse strives sweetly to display 
In this my wondrous Metamorphosis. 
Daine to beleeve me, now I sadly say. 

The stonie substance of hi*S image feature 
Was straight transformed into a living creature 


For when his hands her faire-form'd limbs had felt. 
And that his armes her naked waist imbraced, 
Each part like wax before the sun did melt. 
And now, Oh now, he finds how he is graced 
By his owne worke ! Tut, women will relent 
When as they find such moving blandishment. 

Doe but conceive a mothers passing gladnes 
(After that death her onely sonne had seazed. 
And overwhelmed her soule with endlesse sadnes), 
When that she sees him gin for to be raised 

From out his deadly swoune to life againe *. 

Such joy Pigmalion feeles in every vaine. 

And yet he feares he doth but dreaming find 
So rich content, and such celestiall blisse ; . 
Yet when he proves and finds her wondrous kind, 
Yeelding soft touch for touch, sweet kisse for kis^e, 

He 's well assur'd no faire imagery 

Could yeeld such pleasing loves felicity. 

O wonder not to heare me thus relate, 

And say to flesh transformed was a stone ! 

Had I my love in such a wished state 

As was afforded to Pigmalion, 

Though flinty hard, of her you soone should see 
As strange a transformation wrought by mee. 

And now me thinkes some wanton itching eare, '^ 

With lustfull thoughts and ill attention. 

Lists to my muse, expecting for to heare 

The amorous description of that action 

Which Venus seekes, and ever doth require. 
When fitnes graunts a placed to please desire. 

III. 14 


Let him conceit bat what hinuelfe would doe 
When that he obtayned such a faToni 
Of her to whom his thoughts were boand unto. 
If she, in recompenoe of his loves kbonr, ^y 
Would daine to let one payre of sheets containe 
The willing bodies of those loving twaine. 

Could he, Oh could he ! when that each to eyther 
Did yeeld kind Idssing, and more kind embracing — 
Could he when that they felt and dip't tc^ther, 
And might enjoy the life of dallying — 
Could he abstaine, ndd'st such a wanton sporting, 
"" From doing that which is not fit reporting? 

What would he doe when that her softest skin 
Saluted his with a delightfull kisse ; 
When all things fit for loves sweet pleasuring 
Invited him to reape a lovers blisse ? 

What he would doe, the selfe-same action 

Was not neglected by Pigmalion. 

For when he found that life had tooke his seate 
Within the breast of his kind beauteous love — 
When that he found that warmth and wished heate 
Which might a saint and coldest spirit move — 
Then arms, eyes, hands, tong, lips, and wanton thigh. 
Were willing agents in loves luxurie I i. 

Who knowes not what ensues ? pardon me I 

Yee gaping ears that swallow up my lines, 

Expect no mor, peeace, idle poesie ; 

Be not obsceane though wanton in thy rimes ; 
And chaster thoughts, pardon if I doe trip. 
Or if some loose lines from my pet do slip. 


Let this suffice, tbat that same happy night, 
So gracious were the goes of marriage 
Mid'st all th^re pleasing and long-wish'd delight, 
Paphus was got ; of whom in after age 

Cyprus was Paphoa eall'd, and evermore 

lliose ilandars do Yenus name adore. 

The AutHOX in Prayse of Ma precedent Poem. 

NOW Kufus, by old Glebrons fearfull mace, 
Hath not my muse desenr'd a worthy plaoe ? 
Come, come, Luxurio, crowne my head with bayes. 
Which, Hke a Paphian, wantonly displayes 
The Salaminian titilations, 
Which tickle up our leud Priapians. 
Is not my pen compleate ? Are not my lines 
Eight in the swaggering humour of these times ? 
O sing peana to my learned muae : 
lo his didte / Wilt thou refuse ? 
Doe not I put my mistres in before, 
And pitioudy her gracious ayde implore ? 
Doe not I flatter, call her wondrous faire, 
Vertuous, divine, most debonaire? 
Hath not my goddesse, in the vaunt-gard place, 
The leading of my lines theyr plumes to grace ? 
And then ensues my stanzaes, like odd bands 
Of voluntaries and mercenarians, 
Which, like soldados of our warlike age, 
March rich bedlight in warlike equipage. 


Glittering in dawbed lac'd accoustiementSy 

And pleasing sutes of loves habiliments ; 

Yet puffie as Dutch hose they are within, 

Faint and white-liver'd, as our gallants bin ; 

Fatch'd like a beggars cloake, and run as sweet 

As doth a the paved street. 

And in the end (the end of love I wot), 

Pigmalion hath a jolly boy begot. 

So Labeo did complaine his love was stone. 

Obdurate, flinty, so relentlesse none ; 

Tet Lynceus knowes, that in the end of this. 

He wrought as strauce a metamorphosis. 

Ends not my poem then surpassing ill? 

Come, come, Augustus, crowne my laureat quill. 

Now, by the whyps of epigramatists. 
He not be lasht for my dissembling shifts ; 
And therefore I use Popelings discipline, 
Lay ope my faults to Mastigophoros eyne ; 
Censure my selfe, fore others me deride 
And scoffe at mee, as if I had deni'd 
Or thought my poem good, when that I see 
My lines are froth, my stanzaes saplesse be. 
Thus having rail'd against my selfe a while. 
He snarle at those which doe the world beguile 
With masked showes. Ye changing Proteans, list, 
And tremble at a barking Satyrist. 




Quedam videntur, et non sunt, 

CANNOT show in strange proportion, 
Changing my hew like a camelion ; 
But you all-canning wits, hold water out,. 
Tee vizarded-bifironted-Janian rout. 

Tell mee, brpwne Euscus, hast thou Gyges ring, 

That thou presum'st as if thou wert unseene ? 

If not, why in thy wits halfe capreall, 

Lett'st thou a superscribed letter fall? 

And from thy selfe unto thy selfe doost send. 

And in the same, thy selfe, thy selfe commend? 

Eor shame I leave running to some satrapas, 

Jjeave glayering on him in the peopled presse ; 

Holding him on as he through Paul's doth walke^ 

With nodds and legga and odde superfluous talke ; 

Making men thinke thee gracious in his sight. 

When he esteemed thee parasite. 

For shame ! unmaske ; leave for to cloke intent, 
' And show thou art vaine-glorious, impudent. 
Come, Briscus, by the soule of complement, 

I 'le not endure that with thine instrument 


(Thy gambo vioU plac'd betwixt thj thigbes, 

Wberein the best part of thy court&hip lyes) 

Thou entertaine the time, thy mistres by ; 

Come, now let 's heare thy mounting Mercurie. 

What ! mum ? Give him his fiddle once JELgaine, 

Or he 's more mute then a Pfthagoran. 

But oh ! the absolute Castilio, — 

He that can all the poynts of courtship show ; 

He that can trot a courser, breake a rush. 

And arm'd in proofe, dare dure a strawes strong push ; 

He, who on his glorious scutohion 

Can quaintly show wits newe inyention, 

Advauaeing forth some thirstie Tantalus, 

Or else the Tulture on Pmmetheus, 

With some short motto of a doeen lines ; 

He that can purpose it in dainty rimes. 

Can set hife fece, And with his eye can speake, 

Can^dally with his mistres dangling feake. 

And wish that he were it, to k^se her eye 

And flare aboute her beauties deitie : — 

Tut ! he is famous for his reveling. 

Far fine sette speeches, and for sonetting; 

He soomes the violl and the scraping sticke. 

And yet 's but broker of anothers wit. 

Certes, if all things were well known© and view'd. 

He doth but champe that which another diew'd. 

Come, come, Castilion, skim thy posset curd. 

Show thy queere substance, worthlessc, most absurd. 

Take ceremonius eomplement from thee ! 

Alas ! I see Castilios beggoy. 

O, if Demomtus were now alive. 
How he would laugh to see this divell thrive ! 

8AT7BE8. 215 

And by an holy semblance bleare mens eyes, 
When he intends some damned yillanies. 
Ixiou makes fair weather unto Jove, 
That he might make foule worke with his faire love ; 
And is right sober in his outward s^nblanoe. 
Demure, and modest in his countenance ; 
Applies himsdfe to great Satumus sonne. 
Till Saturns daughter yeeldes his motion. 
Night-shining Phoebe knowes what was begat — 
A monstrous Centaure» illegitimate. 

Who would not chuck to see such pleasing sport — 
To see such troupes of gallants still resort 
Unto Comutos shop? l^hat other cause 
But chast Brownetta, Sporo thether drawes ? 
Who now so long hath prays'd the choughs white bill, 
That he hath left her ne'er a flying quill : 
His meaning gain, though outward semblance love, 
So like a crabflsh Sporo stiQ doth move. 
Laugh, laugh, to see the world, Democritus, 
Cry like that strange transformed Tyreus. 
Now Sorbo, with a fayned gravity, 
Doth flsh for honour and high dignity. 
Nothing within, nor yet without, but beard. 
Which thrice he strokes, before I ever heard 
One wise grave word to blesse my listening eare. 
But marke how Gk)od Opinion doth him reu%: 
See, he 's in office, on his foot-cloth placed ; 
Now each man caps, and strives for to be graced 
With some rude nod of his majestick head, 
Which all do wish in limbo harried. 
But 0, 1 greeve, that good men daine to be 
Slaves unto him that 'a slave to viikny ! 

216 8AT7RE8, 

Now Sorbo swels witli selfe-conoeited sence, 
Thinkiiig tliat men do yeeld this reyerenoe 
Unto his Tertues : fond credulity ! 
Asse, take of Isis, no man honours thee. 

Ghreat Tubrios feather gallantly doth wave. 
Full twenty falls doth make him wondrous brave. 
Oh, golden jerkin 1 royaU arming coate 1 
Like ship on sea, he on the land doth flote. 
He 's gone, he 's shipt, his resolution 
Prickes him (by Heaven) to this action. 
The poxe it doth ! Not long since did I view 
The man betake him to a common stew ; 
And there (I wis), like no quaint-stomack't man, 
Eates up his armes ; and warres munition, 
His waving plume, falls in the brokers chest. 
Fie 1 that his ostridge stomack should digest 
His ostridge feather ; eate up Venis lace ! — 
Thou that didst feare to eate Foore-Johns a space. 
Lie dose, ye slave, at beastly luxury ! 
Melt and consume in pleasures surquedry I 
But now, thou that did'st march with Spanish pike before, 
Come with French pox out of that brotheU dore. 
The fleet 's retum'd. What newes from Bodio P 
" Hote service, by the Lord," cries Tubrio. 
Why do'st thou halt ? " Why six times throgh each thigh 
Pusht with the pike of the hote enemie.. 
Hote service, hote, the Spaniard is a man; 
I say no more, and as a gentleman 
I served in his face. Farwell. Adew." 
Welcome from Netherland, from streaming steW. 
Asse to thy crib, doffe that huge lyons skin. 
Or else the owle will hoote and drive thee in. 

8ATTRE8. 217 

For shame, for sliame ! lew'd-living Tubrio, 
Presume not troupe among tliat gallant crue 
Of true heroik'e spirits ; come, uncase. 
Show us the true forme of Dametas face. 
Hence, hence, ye slave ! dissemble not thy state. 
But henceforth be a tume-ooate, runnagate. 
Oh, hold my sides ! that I may breake my spleene 
With laughter at the shadowes I have seene ! 

Yet I can beare with Curios nimble feete. 
Saluting me with capers in the streete. 
Although in open view and peoples face. 
He fronts me with some spruce, neat, sinquepace ; 
Or Tullus, though, when ere he me espies. 
Straight with loud mouth (a bandy sir) he cries ; 
Or Eobrus, who adic't to uimblefence. 
Still greetes me with Stockadoes violence. 
These I doe beare, because I too well know 
They are the same they seeme in outward show. , 

But all confusion sever from mine eye 
This Janian bifront, Hypocrisie. 

Q^edam sunt, et non videntur. 

I THAT even now lisp'd like an amorist, 
5 Am tum'd into a snaphaunce Satyrist. 
tytle, which my judgement doth adore I 
But I dull-sprighted fat Boetian boore. 
Doe farre off honour that censorian seate ; 
Bnt if I could in milk-white robes intreate 

218 8ATTRES. 

Plebeians favour, I would stew to be 
Tribunui plebu, gainBt the villaay 
Of these same Proteans, whose hipocrisie 
Doth still abuse our fond credulitie. 
But since myaelfe am not imaculate, 
But many spots my minde doth vitiate, 
I'le leave the white roabe and the biting limes 
Unto our modem satyres sharpest lines, 
Whose hungry &ngs snarle at some secret sinne, 
Ahd in such pitchy douds enwrapped beene 
His Sphinxian ridles, that old CBdipus 
Would be amazd, and take it in foule snufis 
That such Cymerian darknes should involve 
A quaint tx)nceit that he could not resolve. 
O darknes palpable ! £gipts black night ! 
My wit is stricken blind, hath lost his sight ; 
My shins are broke with groping for some s^ioe, 
To know to what his words have reference. 
Gertes (sun^ but (non vid&Uur) that I know ; 
Eeach me some poets index that will show. 
Imagines Deorum, Booke of Epithites, 
Natales Comes, thou I know recites, 
And mak'st anatomic of poesie ; 
Helpe me to unmaske the Satyres secresie ; 
Delphick Apollo, ayde me to unrip 
These intricate deepe oracles of wit — 
These dark enigmaes, and strange ridling sence, 
Which passe my duUard braines intdligence. 
Fie on my senceles pate ! Now I can show 
Thou writest that which I nor thou doo'st know. 
Who would imagine that such squint-ey'd sight 
Could strike the world's deformities so right ? 

8ATTRM. 219 

But take heede, Pallas, least thou ayme awiy ; 

Love nor yet Hate had ere true-ju^ing eye. 

Who would onoe dieaute that that same elegie, 

That faire-fram*d peece of sweetest poesie, 

Which Muto put betwixt his mistiis paps 

(When he, qu^ek-witted, call'd her Crueil Chaps, 

And told her there she might his dolors read 

Which she, Oh she I upon his hart had spread). 

Was penn'd by Boscio the tragedian? 

Yet Muto, like a good Vulcanian — 

An honest cuckold — calls the bastard, sonne. 

And brags of that whidi others for him donne. 

Satyre, thou lyest, for that same elegie 

Is Mutos owne — ^his owne deere poesie : 

Why, tis his owne, and deaie, for he did pay 

Ten crownes for it, as I heard Bosdus say. 

Who would imagine yonder sober man. 

That same devout mealo-mooih'd preobean. 

That cries. " GK>od brother," "Xind sister," makes a duck 

After the antique graced can alwayes pluck 

A sacred booke out of his eivill hose, 

And at th' op'ning, and at our stomacks dose, 

Sayes with a turn'd-up eye a solemne grace 

Of half e an honre ; then with silken face 

Smiles on the holy crae, and then doth ciy, 

" manners ! times of impurity !" — 

With that depaints a church refionned state. 

The which the female tongues magnifioate. 

Because that Flatoes odd opinion 

Of all things (common) hath atrong motion 

In their weake miikds : — who thinks that tiiis good man 

Is a vile, sober, dam'd pcditidanP 

220 8ATTRE8, 

Not I, till with Ilia baite of purity 
He bit me sore in deepest usury. 
No Jew, no Turke, woulde use a Christian 
So inhumanely as this Puritan. 
Diomedes jades were not so bestiaU 
As this same seeming saint — vile canniball I 
Take heede, worid I take heede advisedly 
Of these same damned anthropophagy. 
I had rather be within a harpies dawes 
Then trust my selfe in their devouring jawes. 
Who all confusion to the world would bring 
Under the forme of their new discipline. 
0, 1 could say, Briareus hundred hands 
Were not so ready to bring Jove in bands. 
As these to set endles contentious strife 
Betwixt Jehova and his sacred wife I 

But see — ^who 's yonder ? True Humility, 
The perfect image of faire Cuitisie ; 
See — ^he doth daine to be in servitude 
Where he hath no promotions livelihood 1 
Marke, he doth curtsie, and salutes a block. 
Will seeme to wonder at a weathercock ; 
Trenchmore with apes, play musicke to an owle, 
Blesse his sweet honours running brasell bowle ; 
Cries "Brauly broake" when that his lordship mist. 
And is of all the thrunged scaffold hist ; 
is not this a curteous-minded man I 
No foole, no ; a damn'd Machevelian. 
Holds candle to the devillfor a while. 
That he the better may the world beguile 
That 's fed with shows. He hopes, thogh som repine, 
When sunne is set the lesser starres vnll shine ; 


He is within a haughty malecontent, 
Though he doe use such humble blandishment. 
But, bold-fac'd Satyre, straine not oyer hie, 
But laugh and chuck at meaner gullery. 

In fayth, yon is a well-fac'd gentleman ; 
See how he paceth like a Ciprian ! 
Fair amber tresses of the fairest haire 
That ere were waved by our London aire ; 
Kich laced suit, all spruce, all neat, in truth. 
Ho, Lynceus ! what 's yonder brisk neat youth 
Bout whom yon troupe of gallants flocken so. 
And now together to Brownes Common goe ? 
Thou knowst, I am sure ; for thou canst cast thine eie 
Through nine mud wals, or els old poets lie. 
*' Tis loose-legd Lais, that same common drab 
For whom good Tubrio tooke the mortall stab." 
Ha, ha I Nay, then, lie never raile at those 
That weare a codpis, thereby to disclose 
What sexe they are, since strumpets breeches use, 
And all men's eyes save Lynceus can abuse. 
Nay, steed of shadow, lay the substance out. 
Or els, fair Briscus, I shall stand in doubt 
What sex thou art, since such hermaphrodites. 
Such Protean shadowes so delude our sights. 

Looke, looke, with what a discontented grace 
Bruto the travaiier doth sadly pace 
Long Westminster ! O civil-seeming shade, 
Marke his sad colours 1 — how demurely clad ! 
Staidnes it selfe, and Nestors gravity. 
Are but the shade of his civility. 
And now he sighes : " O thou corrupted age, 
Which slight regard'st men of sound carriage ! 

222 8JTTRE8, 

Vertue, knowledge, flie to faesren agame ; 

Daine not mong these nngmtefiil sots Tenwioe 1 

Well, some tongs I know, some eoontries I have aeene. 

And yet these oily snaQes respectles beene 

Of my good parts." O worthies paffie shiTe ! 

Didst thou to Yenis goe ooght els to have. 

But buy a lute and use a cortezan. 

And there to lire like a Gyllenian ? 

And now from thence what hether do'st thon bring. 

But surphulings, new paines, and poysoning, 

Aretines pictures, some strange luxury, 

And new found use of Yenis venery ? 

What art thou but black dothes ? Sad Bmto, say. 

Art any thing but only, say, array ? 

Which I am sure is all thou bronght'st from France, 

Save Naples poxe andErench-mens dalHanoe ; 

From haughty Spayne, what brought'st thou els beside 

But lolly lookes and their Ludfrian pride P 

From Belgia, what but their deep bezeling. 

Their boote-carouse, and their beere-buttering ? 

Well, then, exclaime not on our age, good man. 

But hence, pointed NeopoUtan. 

Now, Satyre, cease to rub our gsnled skinnes. 
And to immaske the worlds detested sinnes ; 
Thou shalt as soon draw Nilus river dry 
As cleanse the world from foule impietie. 

8ATTRE8, S28 

Qu/edam et sunt, et videntur. 

NOW, grim Beprofe, swell in my rough-heu'd rime. 
That thou maist Texe the goil^ of our time. 
Yon is a youth whom how can I ore-slip, 
Since he so jumpe doth in my mashes hit P 
He hath been longer in preparing him 
Then Terence wench ; and now behold he 's scene. 
Now, after two yeeres fast and earnest prayer. 
The fiEishion change not (lest he should dispaire 
Of ever hoording up more faire gay clothes), 
Behold at length in London streete he showes. 
His ruffe did eate more time in neatest setting 
Then Woodstocks worke in painfull perfecting ; 
It hath more doubles farre then Ajax shield 
When he gamst Troy did furious battle weild. 
Nay, he doth weare an embleme bout his neck ; 
For under that fayre ruffe so sprucely set, 
Appeares a fall, a fallmg-band forsooth. 
dapper, rare, compleate, sweet nittie youth ! 
Jesu Maria ! How his clothes appeare 
Grost and recrost with lace, sure for some feare 
Least that some spirit with a tippet mace 
Should with a gastly show affright his face. 
His hat, himselfe, small crowne andi huge great brim, 
Faire outward show, and little wit within. 
And all the band with feathers he doth fill, 
Which is a signe of a fantastick still. 

224 8ATYRE8. 

As sure as ( some doe tell me) evermore 
A goate doth stand before a brotheil dore. 
His clothes perfum'd, his fiistie mouth is ayred. 
His clmme new swept, his very cheekes are glazed. 

Bat ho I what Ganimede is that doth grace 
The gallants heeles ? One who for two dales space 
Is closely hyred. Now who dares not call 
This -^sops crow — fond, mad, fantasticall ? 
Why, so he is ; his clothes doe sympathize. 
And with his inward spirit humorize. 
An open esse, that is not yet so wise 
As his derided fondnes to disguise. 
Why, thou art Bedlam mad, starke lunaticke, 
And glori'st to be counted a fantastick; 
Thou neyther art, nor yet will seeme to be, 
Heire to some vertuous praised qualitie. 
O frantick man ! that thinks all yillanie 
The complete honors of nobilitie 1 
When some damn'd vice, some strange mishapen sute. 
Make youths esteeme themselves in hie repute. 

age ! in which our gallants boast to be 
Slaves unto riot and rude luxury! 

^ay, when they blush, and think an honest act 
Dooth their supposed vertues maculate ! 
Bedlame, Frenzie, Madnes, Lunacie, 

1 challenge all your moody empery 
Once to produce a more distracted man 
Then is inamorato Lucian ; 

For when my eares receav'd a fearefull sound 
That he was sicke, I went, and there I found 
Him layde of love, and newly brought to bed 
Of monstrous folly and a franticke head. 

8JTTRE8. 225 

His chamber liang'd about with elegies, 

With sad complaints of his loves miseries ; 

His windows strow'd with sonnets, and the glasse 

Drawne fall of lore-knots. I approacht the asse, 

And straight he weepes, and sighes some sonnet out 

To his faire lore I And then he goes about 

For to perfume her rare perfection 

With some sweet-smelling pinck epitheton ; 

Then with a melting looke he writhes his head, 

And straight in passion riseth in his bed; 

And having last his hand, stroke up his haire. 

Made a French conge, cryes, " cruell feare " 

To the antique bed-post. I laught a maine. 

That down my cheeks the mirthftill drops did raine. 

Well, he 's no Janus, but substantiall. 

In show and essence a good naturall ; ' 

When as thou hear'st me aske spruce Duceus ^ 

From whence he comes ; and he straight answers us, 

From Lady Lilla; and is going straight 

To the Countesse of ( ), for she doth waite 

His comming, and will surely send her coach, 

Unlesse he ^lake the speedier approach. 

Art not thou ready for to breake thy spleene 

At lai^hing at the fondness thou hast scene 

In this vaine-glorious foole, when thou dost know 

He never durst unto these ladies show 

Hia pippin fiaoe ? Well, he 's no accident. 

But reall, reall, shamelesse, impudent; 

And yet he boasts, and wonders that each man 

Can call him by his name, sweet Ducean ; 

And is right proude that thus his name is knowne. 

I, Duoeus, ly thy name is too faire blowne : 

III. 15 


The world too much, thy sdfe too little know'st. 
Thy private selfe. Why, then, should Duoeus boast? 
But, humble Satyre, wilt thou daine display 
These open naggs, which purblind eyes bewray ? 
Come, come, and snarle more darke at secrete sin. 
Which in such laborinths enwrapped bin. 
That, Ariadne, I must crave thy ayde 
To helpe me finde where this foul monster *8 layd ; 
Then will I drive the Minotaure fix)m us, 
And seeme to be a second Theseus. 


NOW doth Eamnusia Aidrastian, 
Daughter of Night, and of the Ocean, 
Provoke my pen. What cold Satumian 
Can hold, and heare such vile detraction ? 
Yee pines of Ida, shake your fairergrowne height. 
For Jove at first dash will with thunder fight ; 
\Yee cedars, bend, fore lightning you dismay; 
. xTe lyons tremble, for an asse doth bray. 
Who cannot raile? — what dog but dare to barke 
Gtdnst Pkoebes brightnes in the silent darke P 
What stinking scavenger (if so he wHl, ' 
Though streets by fayre) but may right easily fill 
His dungy tumbrel? Sweep, pare, wasik, make deano, 
Tet from your faimes he some durt can gleane. 
The windie-choUicke striv'd to bave some vent. 
And now tis flpwne, and now his rage is speni 


So liave I seene the fuming waves to fret. 
And in the end naught but white foame beget ; 
So have I seene the sulkn dowdes to cry, 

And weepe for anger that the earth was dry, ! 

After tkeyr spight that all the haile-shot drops 
Gouid never peiroe that christiail water tops, 
And never yet could worke her more disgrace 
But only bubUe quiet Thetis face. 
Vaine envious detractor from the good. 
What Cynicke spirit rageth in thy blood? 
Cannot a poore mistdlcen title scape. 
But thou must that into thy tumbrell scrape? 
Cannot some lewd immodest beastliiies 
Lurke and lie hid in just forgetfiilnes. 
But Grillus subtile-smelling swinish snout 
Must sent and grunt, and needes will finde it out? 
Come, daunoe, yee stumbling Satyres by his side. 
If he list once tibe Syon Muse deride ; 
Ye Grailta's white nymphs, come, and with you bring 
Some sillabub, whilst he doth sweetly sing 
Gainst Peters teares and Maries moving moane. 
And like a fierce enraged boare doth foame 
At sacred sonnets. O, daring hardiment 1 
At Bartas sweet Samaines raile impudent $ 
At Hopkins, Stemhold, and the Scotish King, 
At all translators that do strive to bring 
That stranger language to our vulgar tongue, 
Spett in thy poyson theyr fair acts among; 
Ding them all downe from faire Jerusalem, 
And mew them up in thy deserved Bedlem. 
Shall painima honor their vile falsed gods 
With sprightly witai, ai^d shaU not we by ods 

32S satires: 

Farre, farre, more stme with wito best qiiiitesBeRoir 

To a4ore that sacred ever^yiiig essence ? 

Hath not strong reason moov'd the legists mind. 

To say that fayrest of all natnres kinde 

The prince by his prerogative may claime ? 

Why may not then our soules, without thy blame 

(Which is the best thing that our God did frame). 

Devote the best part to his sacred name. 

And with due reverence and devotion. 

Honor his name with our invention ? 

No, poesie not fit for such an action, 

It is defiled with superstition : 

It honord Baal, therefore polute, polute — 

Unfit for such a sacred institute. 

So have I heard an heretick maintaine 

The church uiAoly, where Jehovas name 

Is now ador'd, because he surely knowes 

Some-times it was defil'd with Popish showes ; 

The beUs prpfane, and not to be endur'd. 

Because to Popish rites were inur'd. 

Pure madnes ! Peace, eease to be insolent, 

And be not outward sober, inlye imprudent. 

Fie, inconsiderate! it greeveth me 

An academick should so senceles be. 

Fond censurer! why should those mirrors seeme 

So vile to thee, which better judgements deeme 

Exquisite then, and in our polish'd times 

May run for sencefull tollerable lines? 

What, not medioeriajlrma from thy spight ? 

But must thy envious hungry fangs needs light 

On Magistrates Mirrour P 'Must thou needs detract 

And strive to worke Ins antient honors wrack ? 


What, sliaU not Sosamohd or Graveston 

Ope their sweet lipa without detraction? 

But nuist pnr modeme crittieks envious eye 

Seeme thus to quote some grosse deformity,. 

Where art, not error, shineth in their stile. 

But error, and no art, doth thee beguile ? 

For tell me, crktick, is not fiction 

The soule of poesies invention? 

Is 't not the forme, the spirit, and the essence. 

The life, and the essentiall difference. 

Which onmiy semper y aoliy doth agree 

To heavenly discended poesie? 

Thy wit, God comfort, mad chirurgion. 

What, make so dangerous an incision?' — 

At first dash whip away the instrument 

Of poets procreation ! Fie, ignorant ! 

When as the soule and vitaM blood doth rest. 

And hath in fiction onely interest. 

What, satyre, sucke the soule from poesie. 

And leave him spritles I O impiety ! 

Would ever any eruditp pedant 

Seeme in his artles lines so insolent ? 

But thus it is when pitty priscians 

Will needs step up to be ee&soriana. 

When once they ean in true skan'd verses frame 

A brave encomium of good vertues name ; 

Why, thus it is, when mimick apes wiE strive 

With iron wedge the trunks of rive- 
But see, his spirit of detraction 

Must nible at a glorious action. 

Eugef some gallant spirit, some resolved blood. 

Will hazard all to worke his countries good^ 

280 8JTTRE8. 

And to enrich liis sonle and raise Ids naxne. 

Will boldly saile unto the rich Ghdane. 

What then ? Must straight some shameles satyriat^ 

With odious and opprobious termes, insist 

To blast so high lesoly'd intention 

With a malignant rile detraction P 

So hare I seene a curre dogge in the streete 

Fisse gainst the fairest posts he stiM could meete ; 

So have I seen the March wind strive to fade 

The fairest hewe that art or nature made : 

' So enyy still doth bark at clearest shine, 
And strives to staine heroick acts dirine* 

' Well, I have cast thy water, and I see 
Th' art falne to wits extreamest poverty. 
Sure in consumption of the spritiy part, 
^oe, use some cordiaU for to cheere thy hart. 
Or els I feare that I one day shall see 
Thee fall into some dangerous lethargie. 

But come, fond bragart, crowne thy browes with bay, 
Intrance thy selfe in thy sweet extasie ; 
Gome, manumit thy plumie pinion, 
And scower the sword of elvish champion ; 
Or els vouchsafe to breathe in wax-bound quill» 
And dame our longing eares with musick fill ; 
Or let us see thee some such stanzaes frame. 
That thou maist raise thy vile inglorious name. 
Summon the Nymphs and Briades to bring 
Some rare invention, whilst thou doost sing 
So sweet that thou maist shoulder from above 
The eagle from the staires of friendly Jove, 
And lead sad Pluto captive with thy song. 
Gracing thy selfe* that art obscor'd so long. 


SJTTRE8. 211 

Gome, somewhat say (but hang me when tis done) 

Worthy of brasse and hoary marble stone ; 

Speake, yee attentive swaines, that heard him never, 

Will not his pastorals indure for ever ? 

Speake, yee that never heard him ought but raile, 

Doe not his poeins beare a glorious saile P | 

Hath wi he strongly justled from above -j 

The eagle from the staires of friendly Jove ? 

May be, may be ; tut, tis his modesty ; 

He could, if that he would : nay, would, if could I see. 

Who cannot raile, and with a blasting breath 

Scorch even the whitest liUies of the earth? 

Who camiot stumble in a stuttering stile, i: 

And shaUow heads with seeming shades beguile ? \ \ 

Cease, cease, at length to be malevolent * I 

To fiedrest bloomes of vertues eminent ; 

Strive not to soile the freshest hewes on earth ; 

With thy malitious and upbraiding breath. 

Envie, let pines of Ida rest alone, 

For they will groWe spight of thy thunder stone ; 

Strive not to nible in their swelling graine 

With toothles gums of thy detracting braine ; 

Eate not thy dam, but laugh and sport with me 

At strangers follies with a merry glee. 

Lets not maligne our Idn. Then, Satyrist, 

I doe salute thee with an open fist. 


Parva mofna^ magna nulla. 

AMBITIOUS Gorgons, wide-mouth'd Lamians, 
Shape-changing Froteans, damn'd Briarians, 
Is Minos dead, is Badamanth a sleepe, 
That yee thus dare unto Joves pallace creepe ? 
What, hath Bamnusia spent her knotted whip. 
That yee daxe strive on Hebes cup to sip ? 
Yet know ApoUoes quiver is not spent, 
But can abate your daring hardiment* 
Python is slaine, yet his accursed race 
Dare looke divine Astrea in the face ; 
Chaos retume, and with confusion 
Involve the world with strange disunion ; 
For Pluto sits in that adored chaire 
Which doth belong unto Minervas heire. 
O hecatombe I O catastrophe ! 
From Mydas pompe to Irus beggery ! 
Prometheus, who celestiall fier 
Did steak from heaven, therewith to inspire 
Our earthly bodies with a sence-fiill minde. 
Whereby we might the depth of nature find. 
Is ding'd to hell, and vulture eates his hart. 
Which did such deepe philosophy impart 
To mortall men. When theeving Mercury, 
That even in his new-borne infancy 
Stole faire Apollos quiver and Joves mace. 
And would have filch'd the lightning from his place. 

8ATYRES. ^33 

But that he fear'd he should hare burnt his wing 
And sing'd his downy feathers new-come spring ; 
He that in gastly shade of night doth leade 
Our soules unto the empire of the dead ; 
When he that better doth deserve a rope 
Is a faire planet in our horoscope. 
And now hath Caduceus in his hand, 
Of life and death that hath the sole conmiand. 
Thus petty thefts are payed and soundly whipt. 
But greater crimes are slightly orerslipt ; 
Nay, he 's a god that can doe villany 
With a good grace and glib facility. 

The harmles hunter, with a ventrous eye. 
When unawares he did Diana spie 
Nak'd in the fountaine, he became stnd^tway 
Unto his greedy hounds a. wished pray,' 
His owne delights taking away his breath, 
And all ungratefull forc'd his fatal death 
(And ever since hounds eate their maisters deane, 
For so Diana curst them in the streame). 
When strong-backt. Hercules, in one poore night. 
With great, great ease, and wondrous delight. 
In strength of lust and Venus surquedry, 
Eob'd fifty wenches of virginity -» 
Farre more than lusty Laurence — yet, poore soule. 
He with Acteon drinks of Nemis bole. 
When Hercules lewd act is registred. 
And for his fruitfull labour deified. 
And had a place in heaven him assigned. 
When he the world unto the world resigned. 
I Thus little scapes are deepely punished, 
' But mighty villanes are for gods adored. 

884 8ATTKB8. 

Jove brought his sister to a nuptiaU bed. 
And hath an Hebe and a Ganemede, 
A Leda, and a thousand more beside. 
His chaste Alcmena and his sister bride, 
Who fore his fiace was odiously defil'd, 
^ And by Ixion grosely got with child : 
This thunderer, that right vertuously 
Thrust forth his father from his empeiy. 
Is now the great monarko of the earth. 
Whose awfiill nod, whose all commaunding breath. 
Shakes Europe's ground-worke* ; and his title makes 
As dread a noyse as when a canon shakes 
The subtile ayre. Thus hell-bred villany 
Is still rewarded with high dignity. 
When Sisyphus, that did but once reyeale 
That this incestious yillaine had to deale 
In ile Phliunte with Egina faire. 
Is damn'd to hell, in endles black dispaire 
Ever to reare his tumbling stone upright 
Upon the steepy mountaines lofty height ; 
His stone will never now get greenish mosse. 
Since he hath thus encor'd so great a losse 
As Joves high favour. But it needs must be 
Whilst Jove doth rule and sway the empery. 
And pqore Astread's fled into an ile. 
And lives a poore and banished exile. 
And there pen'd up, sighs in her sad lament, 
Wearing away in pining languishment. 
If that Sylenus asse doe chaunoe to bray. 
And so the Satyres IcTydnes doth bewray, 

^ Bex hominumque Deommque. 

3ATFEBS, 285 

Let liim fcnr ever be a sacrifice ; 
Prickle, spuire, beate, loade, for ever tyranise 
Over the foole. But let some Cerberus 
Keepe back the wife of sweet-tongu'd OrphenSj 
Guato applaudes the hound. Let that same child 
Of night and sleepe (which hath the world defil'd 
With odious railing) barke gainst all the work 
Of all the gods, and find some error Inrke 
In all the graces ; let his layer lip 
Speake in reproach of Natures workmanship ; 
Let him upbraid faure Yenus, if he list, 
!For her short hede ; let him with rage insist 
To snarle at Yulcans man, because he was 
Not made with windowes of transparent glas. 
That all might see the passions of his mind ; 
Let his all-blasting tongue great errors find 
Li Pallas house, because if next should bume. 
It could not from the sodaine periU tume ; 
Let him upbraide great Jove with luxury, 
Gondemne the Heavens Queeiie of jelousie: 
Yet this same Stygian Momus must be praysed. 
And to some godhead at the least be raised. 
But if poor Orpheus sing melodiously. 
And strive with musicks sweetest symphonie 
To praise the gods, and unadvisedly 
Doe but ore-slip one drunken deitie. 
Forthwith the bouzing Bacchus out doth send 
His furious Bacchides, to be reveng'd ; 
And straight they teare the sweet musitian. 
And leave him to the dogs division, 
Hebrus, beare witnes of their crueltie. 
Per thou did'st view poore Orpheus tragedi» 

230 SATTRES., 

Thus slight neglects are deepest yillanie, 

But blasting mouthes deserve a deitie. 

Since GbtUus slept, when he was set to watch 

Leastr Sol or Yidcan should Mavortius catch 

In usin^ Yenus ; since the boy did nap, 

Whereby bright Phcebus did great Mars intrap, 

Poore Gallus now (whilom to Mars so deere) 

Is turned to a crowing chauntedere ; 

And ever since, fore that the sun doth shine 

(Least Phoebus should with his all-peirdng eyne 

Discry some Vulcan), he doth crow full shrill, 

That all the ayre with ecchoes he doth fiU ; 

Whilst Mars, though all the gods do see his sin. 

And know in what lewd vice he liveth in, 

Yet is adored still, and magnified. 

And with all honors duly worshipped. 

Euge ! SmaU faults to mountaines straight are raised ; 

Slight scapes are whipt, but damned deeds are praised. 

Fie, fie ! I am deceived all thys while, 
A mist of errors doth my sence beguile ; 
I have bee^ long of all my witts bereaven ; 
Heaven for hell taking, taking hell for heaven ; 
Vertue for vice, and vice for vertue still ; 
Sower for sweet, and good for passing ill. 
If not, would vice and odious villanie 
Be still rewarded with high dignity ? 
Would damned Jovians be of all men praised. 
And with high honors unto heaven raised P 

lis so, tis so i riot and luxurie 
Are vertuous, meritorious chastitie : 
That which I thougt to be damn'd hel-bome pride. 
Is humble modestie, and nought beside ; 

8ATTRE8. 237 

That wliich I deemed Bacchus surquedry, 

Is grave and staled, dvill sobrietie. 

O then, thrice holy age, thrice sacred men, 

Mong whom nd vice a Satyre can disceme. 

Since lust is turned into chastitie. 

And riot unto sad sobrietie. 

Nothing but goodhes raigneth in our age, 

And vertues all are joyn'd in marriage I 

Heere is no dwelling for impiety. 

No habitation for base villanie ; 

Heere are no subject for Beproofes sharpe vaine ; 

Then hence, rude Satyre, make away amaine, 

And seeke a seate where more impuritie 

Doth lye and lurke in still securitie I 
Now doth my Satyre stagger in a doubt, 

Whether to cease or els to write it out. 

The subject is too sharpe for my dull quill ; 

Some Sonne of Maya, show thy riper skill ; 

For Be goe tume iny tub against the sunne. 

And wistly make how higher plannets runne, 

Contemplating their hidden motion. 

Then on some Latmos with Endimion, 

I 'le slumber out my time in discontent. 

And never wake to be malevolent, 

A beedle to the worlds impuritie ; 

But ever sleepe in still securitie. 
If thys displease the worlds wrong-judging sight. 

It ^ds my soule, and in some better spright 

1 1e write againe. But if that this doe please, 

Hence, hence, Satyrick Muse, take endlesse ease ; 

Hush now, yee band-doggs, barke no more at me. 

But let me slide away in secrede. o 


X Hiti 



Thbee Bookes of SATYEES. 

Neo ioombroi mektentia oarmna^ neo thus. 


Bt Iohn Marston. 

S^ At Londoii: Printed bj L R Anno Dom. 1 699. 

To his most esteemed^ and best beloved 


To Deteaction Ipresmi my Poesie. 

FOULE canker of faire vertuous action, 
Vile blaster of the freshest bloomes oa earth, 
Envies abhorred childe, Detraction, 
I here expose, to thy al-tainting breath, 
The issue of my braine : snarle, raile, barke, bite, 
Knowe that my spirit scomes Detractions spight. 

Knowe that the Genius, which attendeth on 

And guides my powers intellectuall. 

Holds in all vile repute Detraction. 

My soule — an essence metaphysicall, ' 
That in the basest sort scomes critickes rage, 
Because he knowes his sacred parentage — 

My spirit is not puft up with fatte fume 
Of slimie ale, nor Bacchus heating grape. 
My minde disdaines the dungy muddy scum 
Of abject thoughts and Envies raging hate. % 

" True judgement slight regards Opinion, 
A sprightly wit disdaines Detraction." 

A partiall praise shall never elevate 

My setled censure of my own esteeme ; 

A cankered verdit of malignant hate 

Shall nere provoke me, worse my selfe to deeme. 

Spight of despight, and rancors villanie, 

I am my selfe, so is my poesie. 




In Lectores prorstts indignos, 

FY, Satyre, fie ! shall each mechanick slave. 
Each dunghill pesant, free perasall have 
Of thy well-labor'd lines ? — each sattin sute. 
Each quaint fashion-monger, whose sole repute 
Eests in his trim gay clothes, lie slavering. 
Tainting thy lines with his lewd censuring P 
Shall each odde puisne of the lawyers inne. 
Each barmy-froth, that last day did beginne 
To read his little, or his neie a whit, 
Or shall some greater auntient, of lesse wit 
(That never tum'd but browne tobacco leaves. 
Whose sences some danm'd occupant bereaves). 
Lye gnawing on thy vacant times expence, 
Tearing thy rimes, quite altering the sence ? 
• Or shall perfiim'd Castilio censure thee. 
Shall he oreview thy sharpe-fang'd poesie 
(Who nere read further than his mistresse lips), 
Nere practised ought but some spruce capring skips, 
Nere in his life did other language use. 
But " Sweet lady, faire mistris, kind hart, deere cuz " 
Shall this fantasma, this Colosse peruse. 
And blast with stinking breath, my budding muse ? 
Fie ! wilt thou make thy wit a curtezan 
For every broking hand-crafts artizan ? 
Shall brainlesse cyteme heads, each jobemole. 
Pocket the very genius of thy soule ? 

I, Phylo, I, I 'le keepe an open hall, 
A common and a sumptuous festivall ; 


Welcome all eyes, all eares, all tongues to mee, 
Gnaw pesants on my scraps of poesie ; 
Castilios, Cyprians, court-boyes, Spanish blocks, 
Eibanded eares, Granado-netherstooks, 
Pidlers, scriveners, pedlers, tynkering knaves, 
Base blew-coates, tapsters, broad-minded slaves — 
Welcome I-feith ; but may you nere depart 
Till I have made your gauled hides to smart. 
Your gauled hides ? avaunt, base muddy scum, 
Thinke you a satyres dreadful sounding drum 
Will brace itselfe, and daine to terrific 
Such abject pesants basest roguery ? 
No, no, passe on, ye vaine fantastieke troupe 
Of puffie youths ; knowe I do scome to stoupe 
To rip your lives. Then hence, lewd nags, away, 
Goe read each poast, view what is plaid to-day, 
Then to Priapus gardens. You, Castilio, 
I pray thee let my lines in freedome goe, 
Let me alone, the madams call for thee, ' 
Longing to laugh at thy wits poverty. 
Sirra, livorie doake, you lazie slipper slave, 
Thou fawning drudge, what, would'st thou satyres have ? 
Base mind, away, thy master cals, be gone. 
Sweet Gnato, let my poesie alone. 
Goe buy some baUad of the Faiery King, 
A.nd of the begger wench, some roguie thing, 
Which thou maist chaunt unto the chamber-maid 
To some vile tune, when that thy maister 's laid. 
But will you needs stay ? am I forc't to beare 
The blastiag breath of each lewd censurer ? 
Must naught but cloths, and images of men. 
But sprightlesse trunks, be judges of thy pen ? 


Nay then, come all ; I prostitute my muse, 
Tor all the swarmes of idiots to abuse. 
Beade all, view all, even with my fiill consent. 
So you will know that which I never meant ; 
So you will nere conceive, and yet dispraise 
That which you nere conceiv'd, and laughter raise 
Where I but strive in honest seriousnesse 
To scourge some soule-poUuting beastlinesse. 
So you will raile, and finde huge errors lurke 
In every comer of my cynick worke. 
Proface, read on, for your extreamst dislikes 
Wm adde a pineon to my praises flights. 
O, how I bristle up my plumes of pride, 
O, how I thinke my satyres dignifi'd. 
When I once heare some quaint Castilio, 
Some supple-mouth'd slave, some lewd Tubrio, 
Some spruce pedant, or some span-new come fry 
Of innes a-court, striving to vilefie 
My dark reproofes ! Then doe but raile at me. 
No greater honour craves my poesie. 

1. But, ye diviner wits, celestiall soules. 

Whose free-borne minds no kennell thought con- 
Ye sacred spirits, Mayas eldest sonnes — 

2. Tee substance of the shadowes of our age. 
In whom all graces linke in mariage, 

To you how cheerefully my poem runnes. 

3. True-judging eyes, quick-sighted censurers. 
Heavens best beauties, wisdomes treasurers, 

O how my love embraceth your great worth ! 


4. Yee idols of my soule, yee blessed spirits, 
How shall I give true honor to your merrits, 
Wliich I can better thinke then here paint forth ! 

You sacred spirits, Maias eldest sonnes, 
To you how cheerefujly my poeme runnes 1 
O how my love embraceth your great worth, 
Which r can better thinke then here paint forth ! 

rare ! 

To those that seeme jvdiciall Perusers, 

KNOWE, I hate to affect too much obscuritie and 
harshnesse, because they profit no sense. To note 
vices, so that no man can understand them, is as fond 
as the French execution in picture. Yet there are some 
(too many) that thinke nothing good that is so curteous 
as to come within their reach. Tearming all Satyres 
bastard which are not palpable darke, and so rough writ 
that the hearing of them read would set a mans teeth 
on edge ; fot whose unseasoned palate I wrote the first 
Satyre, in some places too obscure, in all places mislyking 
me. Yet when by some scurvie chaunce it shall come 
into Ijie late perfumed fist of judiciall Torquatus (that, 
like some rotten stick in a troubled water, hath gotte a 
great deale of barmie froth to stick to his sides), I knowe 
hee will vouchsafe it some of his new-minted epithets 
(as reall, intnnsecate Delphicke), when in my conscience 
hee understands not the least part of it. But from 


tbence prooeedes his judgment. Persius is crabby, because 
auntieni, and his jerkes (being perticularly given to 
private customes of Ms time) dusky. Juvenall (upos 
the like oceasion) seemes to our judgement, gloomy. 
Yet both of them goe a good seemely pase, not stumbliDg, 
shu£9ing. Chaucer is hard even to our understandings 
who knowes not the reason? how much more those 
olde Satyres which expresse themselyes in termes that 
breathed not long even in their daies. But had wet 
then lived, the understanding of them had beene nothing 
hard. I will not deny there is a seemely decorum to be 
observed, and a peculiar kinde of speech for a Satyres 
lips, which I can willinglyer conceive then dare to pre- 
scribe; yet let me have the substance rough, not the 
shadow. I cannot, nay, I will not delude your sight with 
mists; yet I daie defend my plainenesse against the 
yeijuioe-face of the crabbedst Satyrist that ever stnttered. 
He that thinks worse of my rimes then my selfe, I soom 
him, for hee cannot : he that thinkes better, is a fook. 
So favour me. Good Opinion, as I am farre from being 
a Suffenus. If thou perusest mee with an unpartiall eye, 
reade on : if otherwise, know I nether value thee nor thy 




BEAEE the scourge of just Ehamiiusia, 
Lashing the lewdnesse of Britannia. 
Let others sing as their genius moves, 
Of deepe designes, or else of clipping loves : 

Faire fall them all, that with wits industrie 

Doe cloath good subjectes in true poesie ; 

Eut as for me, my vexed thoughtful! soule 

Takes pleasure in displeasing sharpe controule. 
Thou nursing mother of faire Wisdomes lore. 

Ingenuous Melancholy, I implore 

Thy grave assistance : take thy gloomy seate, 

Inthrone thee in my blood, let me intreate ; 

Stay his quicke jocund skips, and force him runne 

A sad pas't course, until my w)iips be done. 

Daphne, imdip thine armes from my sad brow ; 

Blacke cypresse crowne me, whilst I up doe prow 

The hidden entrailes of rank villany. 

Tearing the vaile from damn'd impietie. 
Quake, guzzeU dogs, that live on putred slime, 
Skud from the lashes of my yerking rime. 


Teonti nuUa fides, 

MAERY, Grod forefend 1 Martius sweares he *le stab. 
Phrigeo, feaxe not, thou art no lying drab ; 
What though dagger-hack'd mouthes of his blade sweares 
ft slew as many as figures of yeares 
Aquafortis eate in 't, or as many more 
As methodist Musus kild with hellebore 
In autumne last, yet he beares that male lye 
With as smooth calme as Mecho rivalrie. 
How ill his shape with inward forme doth fadge. 
Like Aphrogenias ill-yok'd marriage ! 
Fond Physiognomer, complexion 
Guides not the inward disposition, 
Inclines I yeeld, thou sai'st law Julia,* 
Or Catoes often curst Scatinia 
Can take no hold on simpring Lesbia. 
True, not on her eye ; yet Allom oft doth blast 
The sprouting bud that faine would longer last. 
Chary Casca, right pure, or Rhodanus, 
Yet each night drinkes in glassie Friapus. 

Yon pine is faire, yet fouly doth it ill 
To his owne sprouts ; marke, his rank drops distill 
Foule Naples canker in their tender rinde. 
Woe worth, when trees drop in their proper kinde ! 
Mistagogus, what meanes this prodigy P 
When Hiedolgo speaks 'gainst usury, 



When Verres railes 'gainst thieves, Mylo doth hate 

Murder, Clodius cuckolds, Marius the gate 

Of squinting Janus shuts ? Eunne beyond bound 

Of Nil ultra, and hang me, when on 's found 

Will be himselfe. Had nature tum'd our eyes 

Into our proper selves, these curious spies 

Would be asham'd : Flavia would blush to flout 

When Oppia cals Lucina helpe her out, 

If she did thinke, Lynceus did know her iU, 

How nature art, how art doth nature spill. 

God pardon me ! I often did aver 

Qucod gratia grate : the astronomer 

An honest man ; but lie do so no more ; 

His face deceiv'd me ; but now, since his whore 

And sister are all one, his honestie 

Shall be as bare as his anatomic. 

To which he bound his wife. O, packstaffe rimes ! 

Why not, when court of stars shaJl see these crimes ? 

Rods are in pisse — I, for thee, Empericke, 

That twenty graines of oppium will not sticke 

To minister to babes. Heer *s bloody daies, 

When with plaine hearbes Mutius more men slaies 

Then ere third Edwards sword ! Sooth, in our age. 

Mad Coribantes neede not to enrage 

The peoples mindes. You, Ophiogine 

Of Hellespont, with wrangling villanie 

The swol'n world's inly stung, then daine a touch. 

If that your fingers can effect so much. 

Thou sweete Arabian Panchaia, 

Perfume this nastie age : smugge Lesbia 

Hath stinking lunges, although a simpring grace, 

A muddy inside, though a surphul'd face. 


O for some deep-searching Corycean. 
To ferret out yon lewd Cynedian ! 

How now, Brutus, what shape best pleaseth thee ? 
All Protean fcMines, thy wife in venery, 
At thy inforeement takes P Well, goe thy way, 
Shee may transforme thee, ere thy dying day. 
Hush, Gracchus heaies, that hath retailed more lyes, 
Broched more slaunders, done more villanies. 
Then Fabius perpetuall golden coate 
(Which might have Semper idem for a mott) 
Hath been at feasts, and led the measuring 
At court, and in each manage reveling ; 
Writ Palephatus comment on those dreames 
That Hylus takes, midst dung-pit reaking steames 
Of Athos hote house ; Gramercie modest smyle, 
Chremes asleepe : Paphia sport the while. 
Lucia, new set thy ruffe ; tut, thou art pure. 
Canst thou not lispe '* good brother," look demure ? 
Fye, Gallus, what, a skeptiek Pyrrhomist, 
When chast Dictinna breakes the zonelike twist ? 
Tut, hang up Hieroglyphickes. lie not feine 
Wresting my humor from his native straine. 

Difficile est Scdyram non acriiere.^-inYE. 

I CANNOT holde, I caonot I endure 
To view a big-womb'd foggy clowde immure 
The radient tresses of the quickning sunne *• 
Let custards quake, my rage must freely runne. 


Preach not the Stoickes patience to me ; 

I hate no man, but mens impietie. 

My soule is vext ; what power will resist, 

Or dares to stop a sharpe-fangd Satyrist ? 

Who 'le coole my rage ? who le stay my itching fist ? 

But I will plague and torture whom I hst. 

If that the three-fold wals of Babilon 

Should hedge my tongue, yet I should raile upon 

This fiistie world, that now dare put in ure 

To make JEHOVA but a coverture 

To shade ranck filth. Loose conscience is free 

From all conscience, what els hath Kbertie ? 
As't please the Thracian Boreas to blow, 

So tumes our ayerie conscience to and fro. 
What icye Satumiste, what northeme pate. 

But such grosse lewdnesse would exasperate P 
I thinke the bhnd doth see the flame-god rise 
From sisters couch, each morning to the skies. 
Glowing with lust. Walke but in duskie night 
With Lynceus eyes, and to thy piercing sight 
Disguised gods will showe, in peasants shape, 
Prest to commit some execrable rape. 
Here Joves lust-pandar, Maias juggling sonne. 
In downes disguise, doth after milk-maids runne ; 
And, for he le loose his brutish lechery. 
The truls shall taste sweet nectars surquediy. 
There Junos brat forsakes Neries bed 
And like a swaggerer, lust fiered. 
Attended only with his smock-swome page, 
Pert Gallus, sily sKps along, to wage 
Tilting inoounters with some spurious seede 
Of marrow pies and yawning oyvters breede. 

damn'd ! 


Who would not shake a Satyres knotty rod, 
When to defile the sacred seate of God 
Is but accounted genilemens disport? 
To snort in filth, each hpwer to resort 
To brothell pits ; alas, a yeniall crime, 
Nay, royall, to be last in thirtith slime ! 

Ay me ! hard world for Satyrists begimie 
To set up shop, when no small petty sinne 
Is left unpurg'd 1 Once to be pursie fat. 
Had wont because that life did macerate. 
Marry, the jealous queene of ayre doth frowne, 
That Genimede is up, and Hebe downe. 
Once Albion liv'd in such a crueU age 
Than man did hold by servile vilenage : 
Poore brats were slaves of bond-men that were borne, 
\nd marted, sold : but that rude law is tome 
And disannuld, as too too inhumane. 
That lords ore pesants should such service stndne. 
But now (sad change !) the kennell sincke of slaves, 
Pesant great lords, and servile service craves. 

Bond-slave sonnes had wont be bought and sold ; 
But now heroes heires (if they have not told 
A discreet number 'fore their dad did die) 
Are made much of: how much from merchandie? 
Tail'd, and retailed, till to the pedlers packe 
The fourth-hand ward-ward comes ; alack, alack ! 
Woule truth did know I lyed : but truth and I 
Doe know that sense is borne to misery. 
Oh would to God this were their worst mischance! 
Were not their soules sould to darke ignorance ! 
Fair godnes is foul ill, if mischiefes wit 
Be not represt from lewd corrupting it. 


O what dry braine melts not sliarp mustard rime, 
To purge tlie snottery of our slimie time ! 
Hence, idle Cave, vengeance pricks me on, 
When mart is made of faire religion. 
Heform'd bald Trebus swore, in Eomish quier, 
He sold Gods essence for a poor denier. 
The Egyptians adored onions, 
To garlike yeelding all devotions. 
O happie garlike, but thrice happie you, 

Whose senting gods in your large gardens grew ! 
Democritus, rise from, thy putred slime. 

Sport at the madnesse of that hotter dime, 

Deride their frenzy, that for poKcie 

Adore wheate dough as reall deitie. 

Almighty men, that can their Maker make. 

And force his sacred bodie to forsake 

The cherubins, to be gnawne actually, 

Dividing individuum, really ; 

Making a score of gods with one poore word. 

I, so I thought, in that you could afford 

So cheape a penny-worth. ample field, 

In which a Satyre may just weapon weelde ! 

But I am vext, when swarmes of Julians 

Are stil manur 'd by lewd precisians. 

Who, scorning church rites, take the symbole up 

A.S slovenly as carelesse courtiers slup 

Their mutton gruell ! Fie ! who can with-hold, 

But must of force make his mild muse a scold, 

When that hee greeved sees, with red vext eyes. 

That Athens antient large immunities 

Are eyesores to the Fates ! Poore eels forlome ! 
1st not enough you are made an abject scorne 


To jeermg apes, but must the shadow too 
Of auncient substance be thus wrung firom you ! 
O split my heart, least it doe breake with rage. 
To see th' immodest loosenesse of our age I 
Immodest loosenesse P fie, too gentle word, 
When eveiy signe can brothelry afford : 
When lust doth sparkle from our females eyes. 
And modestie is rousted in the skyes ! 

Tell me, Galliottse, what meanes this signe. 
When impropriat gentles will tume Capuchine ? 
Sooner be damn'd ! O, stuffe satyricall ! 
When rapine feeds our pomp, pomp ripes our fall ; 
When the guest trembles at his hosts swart looke ; 
The son doth feare his stepdame, that hath tooke 
His mother's place for lust ; the twin-borne brother 
Malignes his mate, that first came from his mother 
When to be huge, is to be deadly sicke ; 
When vertuous pesants will not spare to lick 
The divels taile for poore promotion ; 
When for neglect, slubbred Devotion 
Is wan with griefe ; when Euf us yauns for death 
Of him that gave him undeserved breath ; 
When Hermus makes a worthy question. 
Whether of Wright, as Paraphonalion, 
A silver pisse-pot fits his lady dame. 
Or its too good — a pewter best became; 
When Agrippina poysons Claudius sonne, 
That all the world to her. owne brat might run ; 
When the husband gapes that his stale would dy, 
That he might once be in by curtisie ; 
The big-paunch't wife longs for her loth'd mates death, 
That she might have more joyntures here on earth ; 



When tenure for short yeares (by many a one) 
Is thought right good be tum'd forth Littleton, 
All to be headdy, or free-hold at least ; 
When tis all one, for long life be a beast, 
A slave, as have a short-term'd tenande ; 
When dead 's the strength of Englands yeomanry ; 
When inundation of luxuriousnesse 
Fats aU the world with such gross beastlinesse ; — 
Who can abstaine ? What modest braine can hold. 
But he must make his shamefac'd muse a scold ? 


JRedde, age, qum deinceps risisti. 
T 'S good be wane, whilst the sunne shines cleer 

(Quoth that pld chuffe that may dispend by yeer 
Three thousand pound), whil'st hee of good pretence 
Commits himselfe to Fleet, to save expence. 
No countries Christmas — ^rather tarry heere. 
The Fleete is cheap, the coimtry hall too deere ; 
But Codrus, harke ! the world expects to see 
Thy bastard heire rot there in misery. 
What ! will Luxurio keepe so great a haU 
That he will proove a bastard in his fall ? 
No; come on, five ! S. George, by Heaven, at all 
Makes his catastrophe right tragicall ! ' 

At all? till nothings left ! Come on, till all comes off, 
I, haire and all ! Luxurio, left a sco£fe 
To leaprous filths ! O stay, thou impious slave, 
Teare not the lead frcMn off thy fathers grave 


To stop base brokeage ! — sell not thy fathers sheet — 

His leaden sheet, that strangers eyes may greete 

Both putrifaction of thy greedy sire 

And thy abhorred viperous desire ! 

But wilt thou needs, shall thy dads lacky brat 

Weare thy sires halfe-rot finger in his hat ? 

Nay, then, Luxurio, waste in obloquie. 

And I shall sport to heare thee faintly cry, 

"A die, a drab, and filthy broking knaves. 

Are the worlds wide mouthes, all-devouring graves." 

Yet Samus keepes a right good house, I heare — 

No, it keepes him, and free'th him from chill feare 

Of shaking fits. How, then, shall his smug wench. 

How shall her bawd (fit time) assist her quench 

Her sanguine heat ? Lynoeus, canst thou sent ? 

She hath her monkey and her instrument 

Smooth fram'd at Vitrio. greevous misery ! 

Luscus hath left her female luxury ; 

I, it left him ! No, his old cynic dad 

Hath forc't him cleone forsake his pickhatch drab. 

Alack, alack ! what peace of lustfull flesh 

Hath Luscus left, his Priape to redresse ? 

Grieve not, good soide, he hath his Ganimede, 

His perfum'd she-goat, smooth-kembd and high fed. 

At Hogson now his monstrous love he feasts. 

For there he keepes a baudy-house of beasts. 

Paphus, let Luscus have his curtezan, 

Or we shall have a monster of a man. 

Tut ! Paphus now detaines him from that bower* 

And clasps him close within his brick-built tower. 

Diogenes, thou art damn'd for thy lewd wit, 

Por 'Luscus now hath skill to practise it. 


Faith, what cares lie for faire Cynedian boyes, 
Velvet-cap't goats, Dutch mares ? Tut ! common toies ! 
Detaine them all on this condition, 
He may but use the cynick Motion. 

O now, ye male stewes, I can give pretence 
Eor your luxurious incontinence. 
Hence, hence, ye falsed seeming patriotes, 
E«tum not with pretence of salving spots. 
When here yee soyle us with impuritie. 
And monstrous filth of Doway seminary. 
What, though Iberia yeeld you libertie. 
To snort in source of Sodome villany ? 
What, though the bloomes of young nobilitie, 
Committed to your Eodons custodie, 
Yee, Nero-like, abuse P yet nere approche 
Tour new S. Homers lewdnes here to broche ; 
Taynting our townes and hopeful! academes 
With your lust-bating, most abhorred meanes. 

Yalladolid, our Athens, gins to taste 
Of thy rank filth. Gamphiie and lettuce chaste 
Are dean casheird, now Sophi ringoes eate, 
Candi'd potatoes are Athenians meate. 
Hence, holy thistle, come sweete marrow pie. 
Inflame our backs to itching luxurie. 
A crabs bak't guts, a lobsters butterd thigh, 
I heare them sweare is bloud for venerie. 
Had I some snout-faire brats, they should indure 
The new found Castilion callenture 
Before some pedant tutor, in his bed. 
Should use my frie like Phrigian Ganimede. 
Nay, then, chaste eels, when greasie Aretine, 
For his rank fico, is sumam'd divine ; 
III. 17 


Nay, then, come all ye veniall scapes to me, 
I dbie well warrant you 'le absolved be. 
Bufus, I 'le terme thee bat intemperate— 
I will not once thy vice exaggerate — 
Though that each howre thou lewdly swaggerest^ 
And at the quarter-day pay'st interest 
For the forbearance of thy chalked score ; 
Though that thou keep'st a taly with thy whore : 
Since Nero keepes his mother Agrippine, 
And no strange lust can satiate Messaline. 

Tullus, goe scotfree ; though thou often bragst 
That, for a false French crowne thou vaulting hadst ; 
Though that thou know'st, for thy incontinence. 
Thy drab repaid thee true French pestilence. 
But tush ! his boast I beare, when Tegeran 
Brags that hee foysts his rotten curtezan 
(Jpon his heire, that must have all his lands. 
And them hath joyn'd in Hymens sacred bands. 
I 'le winke at Bobrus, that for vicinage 
Enters common on his next neighbors stage ; 
When Jove maintaines his sister and his whore. 
And she incestuous, jealous evermore 
Least that Europa on the bull should ride ; 
Woe worth, when beasts for filth are deified ! 

Alacke, poore rogues ! what censor interdicts 
The veniall scapes of him that purses picks ? 
When some slie golden-slopt Castilio 
Can cut a manors strings at primero ? 
Or with a pawne shall give a lordship mate. 
In statute staple chaining fast his state ? 

What academick starved satyrist 
Would gnawrez'd bacon, or, with inke-black fist. 


WoiiLd tosse each muck-heap for some outcast scraps 
Of halfe-dung bones, to stop his yawning chaps ? 
Or, with a hungry, hoUow, halfe-pin*d jaw 
Would once a thrice-tura'd bone-pickt subject gnaw. 
When swarmes of mountebanks and bandeti, 
Damn'd Briareans, sinks of villanie, 
Factors for lewdnes, brokers for the devill. 
Infect our soides with all-polluting evill ? 

Shall Lucia scome her husbands lukewarm bed 
(Because her pleasure, being hurried 
In joulting coach, with glassie instrument, 
Doth farre exceede the Papbian blandishment), 
Whilst I (like to some mute Pythagoran) 
Halter my hate, and cease to curse and ban 
Such brutish filth? Shall Matho raise his fame 
By printing pamphlets in anothers name. 
And in them praise himselfe, his wit, his might. 
All to be deem'd his countries lanthorne-light ? 
Whilst my tongues ty'de with bonds of blushing shame, 
Tor fear of broching my concealed name ? 
Shall Balbus, the demure Athenian, 
Dreame of the death of next vicarian. 
Cast his nativitie, marke his complexion, 
Waigh well his bodies weake condition. 
That, with guilt sleight, he may be sure to get 
The planets place when his dim shine shall set ? 
Shall Gurio streake his lima on his daies couch. 
In sommer bower, and with bare groping touch 
Incense his lust, consuming all the yeere 
In Cyprian dalliance, and in Belgick cheere ? 
Shall Fanus spend a hundred gallions 
Of goates pure milke to lave his staHons, 


As mudi rose juyoe P O batk ! O royally ncfa. 

To scower Faunus and bis saut-proud bitch. 

And when all 's deaas'd, ahal the slaves inside stinke 

Worse than the new cast alime of Thames ebd brinks 

Whilst I securely kt him over^lip, 

Nere yerking him with my satyridce whip ? 

Shall Grispus with hypoerisie beguile, 
Holding a candle to some fiend a while — 
Now Jew, then Turke, then seeming Christian, 
Then Athiste, Papist, and straight Puritan ; 
Now nothing, any thing, even what you list. 
So that some guilt may grease his greedy fist ? 

Shall Damas use his third-hand ward as ill 
As any jade that tuggeth in the mill ? 
What, shall law, nature, vertue be rejected, 
Shall these world arteries be soule-infected 
With corrupt bloud, whilst I shal Martia taske. 
Or some young Yillius, all in choller, aske 
How he can keepe a lazie waiting-man. 
And buy a hoode, and silver-handled fan. 
With fortie pound ? Or snarle at LoUius sonne. 
That with industrious paines hath harder wonne 
His true-got worship and his gentries name 
Then any swine-heards brat that lousie came 
To luskjsh Athens ; and, with fanning pots. 
Compiling beds, and scouring greasie spots. 
By chance (when he can, like taught parrat, cry 
** Deerely belov'd," with simpering gravitie) 
Hath got the farme of some gelt vioary. 
And now, on cock-horse, gallops joUily ; 
Tickling, with some stolne stulfe his senseless cure. 
Belching lewd termes gainat all aound iittrature ? 


Shall I with ahadowes fight, taske hitterly 

Homes filth, sccaping base channell roguene. 

Whilst such huge gyants shall affright our eyes 

With execrable, d^unn'd impieties ? 

Shall I finde trading Mecho never loath 

Frankly to take a damning peijured oath ? 

Shall Euria brooke her sisters modesty, 

And prostitute her soule to brothelry ? 

Shall Gossus make his well-fac't wife a stole, 

To yeeld his braided ware a quicker sale ? 

Shall cock-horse, fat-pauncht Milo staine whole stocks 

Of well-borne soules with his adultering spots ? 

Shall broking pandars sucke ngbilitie, 

Soyling faire stems with foul impuritie ? 

Nay, shall a trencher slave extenuate 

Some Lucrece rape, and straight magnificate 

Lewde Jovian lust, whilst my satyrick vaine 

Shall muzzled be, not daring out to straine 

His tearing paw ? No, gloomy Juvenall, 

Though to thy fortunes I disastrous fall. 



IMARET, sir, here 's perfect honesty, 
9 When Martins will forsweare all villany 
(All damn'd abuse of paiment in the warres, 
All filching from his prince and souldiers). 
When once he can but so much bright dirt gleane 
As may maintaine one more White-friers queane, 


One drab more ; faith, then farewell vOlany^ 
He 'le cleanse himselfe to Shoreditch puritie. 

As for Stadius, I thinke he hath a soule ;. 
And if he were but free from sharpe controule 
Of his sower host, and from his taylors biU, 
He would not thus abuse his riming skill ; 
Jading our tired ears with fooleries. 
Greasing great slaves with oyly flatteries. 
Good faith, I thinke he would not strive to sate 
The back of humorous Time (for base repute 
Mong dunghill pesants), botching up such ware 
As may be salable in Sturbridge £eu%, 
If he were once but freed from specialty ; 
But sooth, till then, beare with his balladry. 

I ask't lewd GaUus when he le cease to sweare, 
And with whole-culverin, raging oaths to teare 
The vault of heaven — spitting in the eyes 
Of Natjire's nature, lothsome blasphemies. 
To-morrow, he doth vow he will forbeare. 
Next day I meete him, but I heare him sweare 
Worse then before. I put his vowe in minde. 
He answers me " To-morrow ;" but Ifinde 
He sweares next day farre worse then ere before, 
Putting me off with " morrow" evermore. 
Thus, when I urge him, with his sophistrie 
He thinkes to salve his damned perjury. 

Sylenus now is old, I wonder, I, 
He doth not hate his triple venerie* 
Cold, writhled eld, his lives-wet almost spent. 
Me thinkes a unitie were competent. 
But, O faire hopes 1 he whispers secretly. 
When it leaves him he 'le leave his lechery. 


When simpring Elaccus (that demurely goes 
Bight neatly tripping on his new-blackt toes) « 

Hath made rich use of his religion, 
Of God himselfe, in pure devotion ; 
Wlien that the strange ideas in his head 
(Broched 'mongst curious sots, by shadowes led) 
Have fumish't him, by his hore auditors. 
Of faire demeasnes and goodly rich mannors ; 
Sooth, then, he will repent when 's treasury 
Shall force him to disdaime his heresie. 
What will not poore neede force ? But being sped, 
God for us all ! the gurmonds paunch is fed ; 
His mind is chang'd. But when will he doe good ? 
To-morrow — I, to-morrow, by the rood ! 

Yet Eascus sweares he 'le cease to broke a sute. 
By peasant meanes striving to get repute 
Mong puffie spunges, when the Meet 's defiraid. 
His re veil tier, and his laundresse paid. 
There is a crewe which I too plaine could name. 
If so I might without th' Aquinians blame. 
That lick the tail of greatnesse with their lips — 
Laboring with third-hand jests and apish skips, 
Retayling others wit, long barrelled. 
To glib some great mans eares till panch be fed — 
Glad if themselves, as sporting fooles, be made 
To get the shelter of some high-growne shade. 
To-morrow — ^yet these base tricks they 'le cast off, 
And cease — for lucre be a jeering sco£fe. 
Kuscus will leave when once he can renue 
His wasted clothes, that are ashamed to view 
The worlds proud eyes; Drusus wil cease to fawne 
When that his farme, that leaks in melting pawne. 


Some lord-applauded jest hath once set free : 

Ail will to-morrow leave there rogaery. 

When fox-furd Mecho (by damn'd usury, 

(hitthrote deceite, and his crafts yillany) 

Hath rak't together some four thousand pound. 

To make his smug gurle beare a bumming sound 

In a young merchants eare, faith, then (may be) 

He 'le ponder if there be a Deitie ; 

Thinking, if to the parish poverty. 

At his wisht death, be dol'd a half -penny, 

A worke of supererogation, 

A good filth-deansing strong purgation. 

Aulus will leave begging monopolies 
When that, 'mong troopes of gaudy butter-flies, 
He is but able jet it joUily 
In pie-bald sutes of proud court bravery. 

To-morrow doth Luxurio promise me 
He will unline himselfe from bitchery ; 
Marry, Alcides thirteenth act must lend 
A glorious period, and his lust-itch end. 
When once he hath froth-foaming iStna past 
At one-an-thirtie, being alwaies last. 

If not to-day (quoth that Nasonian), 
Much lesse to-morrow. " Yes," saith Fabian, 
" For ingrain'd habits, died with often dips. 
Are not so soon discoloured. Young slips, 
New set, are easily mov'd and pluck't away ; 
But elder rootes clip faster in the clay." 
I snule at thee, and at the Stagerite, 
Who holds the liking of the appetite, 
Being fed with actions often put in ure, 
Hatcheth the soule in quality impure 


Or pure ; may be in vertue : but for vice, 
That comes by inspiration, with a trice. 
Young Furius, scarce fifteen yeares of age, 
But is, straight-waies, right fit for marriage — 
Unto the divell ; for sure they would agree. 
Betwixt their souled their is such sympathy. 

O where 's your sweatie habit, when each ape. 
That can but spy the shadowe ofhis shape. 
That can no sooner ken what 's vertuous, 
But will avoid it, and be vitious ! 
Without much doe or farre-fetch't habiture ! 

In earnest thus : — It is a sacred core 

To salve the soules dread wounds. Omnipotent 

That Nature is, that cures the impotent. 

Even in a moment. Sure, grace is infus'd 
By Divine favour, not by actions us'd. 

Which is as permanent as heavens bllsse, 

To them that have it, then no habit is. 

To-morrow, nay, to-day, it may be got. / 

So please that gratious power cleanse thy spot. 
Vice, from privation of that sacred grace 

Which God with-drawes, but puts not vice in place. 

Who sales the sunne is cause of ugly night ? 

Yet when he vailes our eyes from his faire sight. 

The gloomy curtaine of the night is spred. 

Yee curious sotts, vainely by Nature led, 

Wh»e is your vice or vertuous habite now ? 

For Swtinepro nunc doth bend his brow. 

And old crabb'd Scotus, on th' Organon, 

Pay'th me with snaphaunce, quick distinction. 

Habits, that intellectuall tearmed be. 

Are got or else infus'd from Deitie. 


Dull Sorbonist, fly contradictioii ! 

Fie! thou oppugn'st the definition; 

If one should say, " Of things tearm'd rationall. 

Some reason have, others mere sensuall/' 

Would not some freshman, reading Porphiiie, 

Hisse and deride such blockish foolery ? 

" Then vice nor vertue have from habite place ; 

The one from want, the other sacred grace 

Infus'd, displac't ; not in our will or force, 

But as it please Jehova have remorse." 

I will, cries Zeno. O presumption ! 

I can. Thou maist, dogged opinion 

Of thwarting cynicks. To-day yitious. 

List to their percepts ; next day vertuous. 

Peace, Seneca, thou belchest blasphemy ! 

" To live from God, but to live happily" 

(I heare thee boast) " from thy philosophy, 

And from thy selfe." O ravening lunacy ! 

Cynicks, yee wound your selves ; for destiny. 

Inevitable fiate, necessitie. 

You hold doth sway the acts spirituall. 

As well as parts of that wee mortall call. 

Wher 's then / mU ? Wher 's that strong deity 

You do ascribe to your philosophy P 

Confounded Natures brats I can will and fate 

Have both their seate and office in your pate ? 

O hidden depth of that dread secrecie. 

Which I doe trembling touch in poetry ! 

To-day, to-dky, implore obsequiously ; 

Trust not to-morrowes wiU, least utterly 

Yee be attach't with sad confusion, 

In your grace-tempting lewd presumption. 



But I foiget. Why sweat I out my braine " 
In deep designes to gay boyes, lewd and vaine ? 
These notes were better sung 'mong better sort ; 
But to my pamphlet, few, save fooles, resort. 



CANNOT quote a motto Italionate, 

Or brand my satyreswith some Spanish terme; 
I camiot with swobie lines magnificate 
Mine owne poore worth, or as immaculate 
Task others rimes, as if no blot did staine. 
No blemish soyle, my young satyrick vaine. 

Nor can I make my soule a merchandize, 
Seeking conceits to sute these artlesse times ; 

Or daine for base reward to poetize, 
Soothing the world with oyly flatteries. 

Shall mercenary thoughts provoke me write — 

Shall I for lucre be a parasite ? 

Shall I once pen for vulgar sorts applause, 
To please each hound, each dungy scavenger ; 

To fit some oyster-wenches yawning jawes 

With tricksey tales of speaking Cornish dawes ? 

First let my braine (bright-hair' d Latonas sonne) 

Be deane distract with all confusion. 

What though some John-a-Stile will basely toyle, 

Only incited with the hope of gaine : 
Though roguie thoughts do force some jade-like moile ; 

Yet no such filth my true-bome muse wiU soyle. 
O Epictetus, I doe honour thee. 
To thinke how rich thou wert in povertie I 


Ad rithmum. 

COME, prettie pleasing symphonie of words. 
Ye wel-matokt twins (whose like-tuu'd tonga affords 
Such musicall delight), oome willingly 
And daimoe leyoltoes in my poesie. 
Come all as easie as spruce Curio will, 
In some court-hall, to shew his capring skill; 
As willingly come, meete and jump together 
As new-joyn'd loves, when they do dip each other ; 
As willingly as wenches trip a round 
About a May-pole after bagpipes sound ; 
Come, riming numbers, come and grace conceite. 
Adding a pleasing close, with your deceipt 
Inticing eares. Let not my ruder hand 
Seeme once to force you in my lines to stand ; 
Be not so feareftiU (prettie soules) to meete 
As Elaccus is the sergeants face to greete ; 
Be not so backward, loth to grace my sense, 
As Drusus is to have intelhgenoe 
His dad 's alive ; but come into my head 
As jocundly as (when his wife was dead) 
Young Lelius to his home. Come, like-fac't rime, 
In tunefuU numbers keeping musicks time ; 
But if you hang an arse, like Tubered, 
When Chrcmes dragd him from his brotibell bed, 
Then henoe, base ballad stuffe, my poetry 
Disdaimes you quite ; for know my libertie 
Scomes riming lawes. Alas, poore idle sound ! 
Since I first Phcebus knew I never found 


Thy interest in sacred poesie ; 
Hum to wention add'st but surqnedry, 
A gandie omature, but bast no part 
In that soule-pleasing high infused art. 
Then if thou wilt dip kindly in my lines^ 
Welcome, thon friendly aide of my designes : 
If not, no title of my senselesse change 
To wrest some forced rime, but freely range. 
Yee scrupulous observers, goe and leame 
Of iEsops dogge ; meat from a shade disceme. 

Totum in toto. 

HANG thy selfe, Drusus : hast nor armes nor braine ? 
Some Sophy say, " The gods sell all for paine. " 

Not so. 
Had not that toyling Thebans steeled back 
Dread poysoned shafts, liv'd he now, he should lack 
Spight of his farming oxe-stawles. Themis selfe 
Would be casheir'd from one poore scrap of pelfe. 
If that she were incarnate in our time, 
She might luske scorned in disdained slime, 
Shaded from honour by some envious mist 
Of watry fogges, that fill the ill-stufl list 
Of faire Desert, jealous even of blind dark, 
Least it should spie, and at their lamenesse barke. 
*' Honors shade thrusts honors substance from his placed' 
Tis strange, when shade the substance can disgrace. 
" Harsh lines I" cries Gurus, whose eares nere rejoyce 
But as the quavering of my ladies voice. - 


Hude limping lines fits this lewd halting age. 
Sweet senting Curus, pardon then my rage, 
When wisards sweare plaine vertue never thrives. 
None but Priapus by plaiae dealing wives. 
' Thou subtile Hermes, and the destinies 
Enamour'd on thee I Then up, mount the skies. 
Advance, depose, do even what thou list. 
So long as fates doe grace thy juggling fist. 
Tuscus, hast Beuclarkes armes and strong sinewes. 
Large reach, fuU-fed vaines, ample revenewes ? 
Then make thy markets by thy proper arme ; 
O brawny strength is an all-canning charme ! 

Thou dreadlesse Thradan! hast Hallerhotius slaine? 

What, ist not possible thy cause maintaine 

Before the dozen AreX)pagites ? 

Come, Enagonian, furnish him with slights. 

Tut, Plutos wrath Proserpina can melt. 

So that thy sacrifice be freely felt. 

What ! cannot Juno force in bed with Jove, 

Tume and returne a sentence with her love ? 

Thou art too dusky. Pie, thou shallow asse ! 

Put on more eyes, and marke me as I passe. 

Well, plainely thus : " Sleight, force are mighty things. 

Prom which much (if not most) earths glory springs. 

If vertues selfe were dad in humane shape, 

Vertue without these might goe beg and scrape. 

The naked truth is, a well-doathed lie, 

A nimble quick pate mounts to dignitie ; 

By force or fraude, that matters not a jot. 

So massie wealth may fall unto thy lot." 
I heard old Albius sweare Plavus should have 

His eldest gurle, for Flavua was a knave. 


A damn'd deep-reaching viUain, and would mount 
(He durst well warrant him) to great account ; 
What, though he laid forth all his stock and store 
Upon some oifice, yet he 'le game much more, 
Though purchast deere ; tut, he will trebble it 
In some fewe termes, by his extorting wit. 

When I, in simple meaning, went to sue 
For tong-tide Damns, that would needs go wooe, 
I prais'd him for his vertuous honest life. 
" By God," cryes Flora, " ile not be his wife ! 
He 'le nere come on." Now I swear solemnely. 
When I goe next I 'le praise his villany : 
A better field to range in now-a-daies. 
If vice be vertue, I can all men praise. 

What, though pale Maurus paid huge symonies 
For his halfe-dozen gelded yicaries, 
Yet, with good honest cut-throat usury, 
I feare he *le mount to reverent dignity. 
'' O sleight, all-canning sleight, all-damning sleight. 
The onely gally-ladder unto might." 

Tuscus is trade falne ; yet great hope he le rise. 
For now he makes no count of perjuries ; 
Hath drawn false lights from pitch-black lovehes. 
Glased his braided ware, cogs, sweares, and lies ; 
Now since he haih the grace, thus gracelesse be. 
His neighbours sweare he 'le swell with treasurie. 
" Tut, who maintaines such goods, ill-got, decay ? 
No, they 'le sticke \yj the soule, they 'le nere away." 
Luscus, my lords perfumer, had no sale 
UntiQ he made his wife a brothell stale. 
Absurd, the gods sell all for industiy. 
When, what 's not got by hell-bred villany ? 


• CodniSj my well-fac't ladies taile-bearer 
(He that some-times play th' Flavias usherer), 
I heard one day complaine to Lynceus 
How yigilant, how right obsequious, 
Modest in carriage, how true in trust. 
And yet (alas !) nere guerdond with a crust. 
But now I see he findes by Ids accounts 
That sole Priapus, by plaine-dealing, mounts. 
How now ? What, droupes the newe Pegasian inne ? 
I feare mine host is honest. Tut, beginne 
To set up whorehouse ; nere too late to thrive ; 
By any meanes, at Porta Bich arrive ; 
Goe use some sleight, or liv.e poore Irus life ; 
Straight prostitute thy daughter or thy wife. 
And so6ne be wealthy ; but be damn'd with it. 
Hath not rich Mylo then deepe-reaching wit ? 

Faire age! 
When tis a high and hard thing t' have repute 
Of a compleat villaine, perfect, absqlute ; 
And roguing vertue brings a man defame, 
A packstaffe epethite, and scorned name. 

Pie, how my wit flagges ! How heavily 
Me thinks I vent dull spritelesse poesie ! 
What cold black frost congeales my nummed brain ! 
What envious power stops a satyres vaine ! 

now I knowe the juggling god of sleights, 
With Caduceus nimble Hermes fights. 
And mists my wit ; offended that my rimes 
Display his odious world-abusing crimes. 

O be propitious, powerfoll god of arts ! 

1 sheath my weapons, and do break my darts. 

III. 18 


Be then appeas'd ; lie offer to thy shrine 
An hecatombe of many spotted Idne. 
Myriades of beasts shall satisfie thy rage, 
Wliich doe prophane thee in this apish age. 
Infectious bloud, yee gouty kumors quake. 
Whilst my sharpe razor doth incision make. 

Hem nostVn. 

CURIO, know'st me P Why, thou bottle-ale. 
Thou barmie froth ! O stay me, least I raile 
Beyond Nil ultra I to see this butterfly. 
This windy bubble, taske my balladry 
With senselesse censure. Curio, know'st my sp'rite ? 
Yet deem'st that in sad seriousnesse I write 
Such nasty stuffe as is Pigmalitm ? 
Such maggot-tainted, lewd corruption ! 

Ha, how he glavers with his fawning snowt, 
And sweares he thought I meant but faintly flowt 
My fine smug rime. O barbarous dropsie noule ! 
Think'st thou that genius that attends my soule. 
And guides my fist to scourge magnificoes, 
Wil daigne my minde be rank't in Faphian showes ? 
Thinkst thou that I, which was create to whip 
lucamate fiends, will once vouchsafe to trip 
A Paunis traverse, or will lispe " Sweet love," 
Or pule " Aye me," some female soule to move ? 
Think'st thou that I in melting poesie 
Will pamper itching sensualitieP 


(That in the bodies scmnme all fatally 
Jntombes the soules most sacred faculty.) 

Hence, thon. misjudging censTor : know I wrot 
Those idle rimes to note the odious spot 
And blemish that deformes the lineaments 
Of modeme poesies habiliments. 
Oh that the beauties of invention. 
For want of judgements disposition, 
Should aU be spoil'd ! that such treasurie, 
Such straine of well-conceited poesie. 
Should moulded be in such a shapelesse forme. 
That want of art should make such wit a scome ! 

Here 's one must invocate some lose-leg'd dame, 
Some brothel drab, to helpe him stanzaes frame. 
Or eh (alas 1) his wits can have no vent, 
To broch conceits industrious intent. 
Another yet dares tremblingly come out ; 
But first he must invoke good Colin Clout. 

Yon 's one hath yean'd a fearful prodigy. 
Some monstrous mishapen Balladry ; 
His guts are in lus braines, huge jobbemoule. 
Eight gurnets-heads ; the rest without all soule. 
Another walkes, is lazie, lies downe, 
Thinkes, reades, at length some wonted slepe doth crowne 
His new-falne lides, dreames, straight, ten pound to one, 
Out steps some fayery with quick motion. 
And tells him wonders of some flowry vale ; 
Awakes, straight rubs his eyes, and prints his tale. 

Yon 's one whose straines have flowne so high a pitch, 
That straight he flags and tumbles in a ditch. 
His sprightly hot high-soring poesie 
Is like that dreamed of ioiagery, 


Whose head was gold, brest silver, brassie thigh. 
Lead leggs, day feete ; .0 faire fram'd poesie ! 

Here 's one, to get an imdeserv'd repute 
Of deepe deepe learning, all in fustian sute 
Of ill past, farre-fetch't words attireth 
His period, that sense forsweareth. 

Another makes old Homer Spencer cite. 
Like my PigmaUon^ where, with rage, delight. 
He cryes, O Ovid ! This caus'd my idle quill. 
The world's dull eares with such lewd stuff to fill. 
And gull with bumbast lines the vritlesse sense 
Of these odde nags, whose pates circumference 
Is fill'd with froth. the same buzzing gnats 
That sting my sleeping browes, these Nilus rats, 
Halfe dung, that have their life from putrid slime — 
These that do praise my loose lascivious rime I 
For these same shades, I seriously protest, 
I slubbered up that chaos indigest. 
To fish for fooles, to stalke in goodly shape ; 
" What, though in velvet doake, yet still an ape." 
Capro reads, sweares, scrubs, and sweares againe. 
Now by my soule an admirable straine ; 
Strokes up his haire, cries, " Passing passing good ;" 
Oh, there 's a line incends his lustfull blood ! 

Then Muto comes, with his new glasse-set face, 
And with his late-kist hand my booke doth grace, 
Straight reades, then smiles, and lisps, '* Tis pretty good," 
And praiseth that he never understood. 
But roome for Flaccus, he *le my Satyres read ; 
O how I trembled straight with inward dread 1 
But when I aawe him read my fustian. 
And heard him sweare I was a Pythian, 



Yet straight fecald, and sweares I did bat quote 

Out of Xilinum to that margents note, 

I could scarce hold and keepe myselfe conceal'd. 

But hud well-nigh myselfe and idl reyeal'd. 

Then straight comes Friscus, that neat gentleman, 

That newe discarded academian, 

Who, for he could cry Ergo in the schoole, 

Straight-way with his huge judgment dares controule 

Whatso'ere he views : " That 's pretty good ; 

That epithite hath not that sprightly blood 

Which should enforce it speake ; that 's Persius yaine ; 

That 's Juvenal's ; heere 's Horace crabbid straine ;" 

Though he nere read one line in Juvenall, 

Or, in his life, Ids lazie eye let fall 

On duskie Persius. O, indignitie 

To my respectlesse free-bred poesie ! 

Hence, ye big-buzzing litUe-bodied gnats, 
Yee tailing ecchoes, huge-tongu'd pigmy brals : 
I meane to sleepe : wake not my slumbring braine 
With your malignant, weake, detracting vaine. 

What though the sacred issue of my soule 
I here expose to idiots controule ; 
What though I beare to lewd opinion. 
Lay ope to vulgar prophanation. 
My very genius, — ^yet know, my poesie 
Doth scome your utmost, rank'st indignitie ; 

My pate was great with child, and here tis eas'd ; 

Vexe all the world, so that thy selfe be pleas'd. 


A Oynicke Satyre, 

A MAN, a man, a kingdome for a man ! 
Why, how now, currish, mad Athenian ? 
Thou Cynick dog, see'st not the streets do swarme 
With troups of men ? No, no : for Cyrces charme 
Hath tum'd them all to swine. I neyer shall 
Thinke those same Samian sawes authenticall : 
Bat rather, I dare sweare, the soules of swine 
Doe liye in men. For that same radiant shine — 
That lustre wherewith Natures nature decked 
Our intellectuall part — that glosse is soyled 
W^th stayning spots of vile impiety. 
And muddy durt of sensualitie. 
These are no men, but apparitions, 
Ignes fatui, glowewormes, fictions. 
Meteors, rats of Nilus, fantasies, 
^Golosses, pictures, shades, resemblances. 

Ho, Lynceus ! 
Seest thou yon gallant in the sumptuous clothes. 
How brisk, how spruce, how gorgiously he shows ? 
Note his French herring-bones : but note no more, 
Unlesse thou spy his fidre appendant whoze. 
That lackies him. Marke nothing but his clothes. 
His new stampt complement, his cannon oathes : 
Marke those : for naught but such lewd vidousnes 
Ere graced him, save Sodome beastlinesse. 
Is this a man P Nay, an incarnate devill, 
'That struts in yice and glorieth in evill. 



A man, a man ! Peace, Cynick, yon is one : 
A compleat soule of all perfection. 
What, mean'st thou him that walks all open-brested. 
Drawn through the eare with ribands, plumy crested ; 
He that doth snort in fat-fed luxury. 
And gapes for some grinding monopoly ; 
He that in effeminate invention. 
In beastly source of all pollution. 
In ryot, lust, and fleshly seeming sweetnesse, 
Sleepes sound, secure, tmder the shade of greatnesse ? 
Mean'st thou that senoelesse, sensuall epicure — 
That sinke of filth, that guzzel most impure — 
TVhat, he ? Lynoeus, pn my word thus presume, 

He 's nought but clothes, and senting sweete perfume ; 

His yerie soule, assure thee, Lynceus, 

Is not 80 bigge as is an atomus : 

Nay, he is sprightlesse, sense or soule hath none, 

Since last Medusa tum'd him to a stone. 
A man, a man ! Lo yonder I espie 

The shade of Nestor in sad gravatie. 

Since old Sylenus brake his asses back. 

He now is forc't his paunch and guts to pack 

In a faire tumbreU. Why, sower Satyrist, 

Canst thou unman him ? Here I dare insist 

And soothly say, he is a perfect soule, 

Eates nectar, drinkes ambrosia, saunce controule ; 

An inundation of felicitie 

Fats him with honor and huge treasurie. 

Canst thou not, Lynceus, cast thy searching eye, 

And spy his eminent catastrophe ? 

He 's but a spunge, and shortly needes must leese 

His wrong-got joice, when greatnes fist shall squeese 


His liquor out. Would not some head, 

That is with seeming shadowes only fed, 

Sweare yon same damaske-coat, yon garded man. 

Were some grave sober Cato Utican P 

When, let him but in judgements sight uncase. 

He 's naught but budge, old gards, browne fox-fur face ; 

He hath no soule the which the Stagerite 

Term'd rationall : for beastly appetite, 

Base dunghill thoughts, and sensuall action. 

Hath made him loose that faire creation. 

And now no man, since Circes magick charme 

Hath tum'd him to a maggot that doth swarme 

In tainted flesh, whose soule corruption 

Is his faire foode : whose generation 

Anothers mine. O Canaans dread curse, 

To live in peoples sinnes 1 Nay, far more worse, 

To make ranke hate 1 But sirra, Lynceus, 

Seest thou that troupe that now afEronteth us ? 

They are nought but eeles, that never will appeaie 

Till that tempestuous winds or thunder teare 

Their slimy beds. But prithee stay a while ; 

Looke, yon comes John-a-Noke and John-a-Stile ; 

They are nought but slowe-pac't, dilatory pleas. 

Demure demurrers, stil striving to appease 

Hote zealous love. The language that they speake 

Is the pure barbarous blacksaunt of the Create ; 

Their only skill rests in collusions. 

Abatements, stoppels, inhibitions. 

Heavy-pas't jades, dull-pated jobemoules, 

Quick in delayes, checking with vaine controules 

Faier Justice course ; vile necessiEuy evils. 

Smooth-seeming saints, yet damn'd incarnate divels. 

800URQU OF riLLANIE. 281 

Farre be it from my sharpe Satyrick muse, 
Those grave and reverend legists to abuse. 
That aide Astrea, that doe further right ; 
But these Megera's that inflame despight, 
That hroche deepe rancor, that study still 
To ruine right, that they their panch may fill 
With Irus bloud — these furies I doe meane, 
These hedge-hogs, that disturbe Astreas soean. 

A man, a man 1 Peace, Cynicke, yon 's a man ; 
Behold yon sprightly dread Mavortian ; 
With him I stop thy currish barking chops. 
What, meanst thou him that in his swaggering slops 
WaUowes unbraced, all along the streete ; 
He that salutes each gaUant he doth meete 
With " Farewell, sweete captaine, kind hart, adew ;" 
He that last night, tumbling thou didst view 
From out the great mans head, and thinking still 
He had beene sentinell of warlike Brill, 
Gryes out, ''Que va la ? zounds, que?" and out doth draw 
His transformed ponyard, to his syringe straw. 
And stabs the drawer ? What, that ringo roote ! 
Mean'st that wasted leg, puffe bumbast boot ; 
What, he that 's drawne and quartered with lace ; 
That Westphalian gamon dove-stuck face ? 
Why, he is nought but huge blaspheming othes. 
Swart snout, big looks, mishapen Switzers clothes ; 
Weake meager lust hath now consumed quite, 
And wasted deane away his martiaU spright ; 
Infeebling ryot, all vices confluence. 
Hath eaten out that sacred influence 
Which made him man. 


That divine part is soak't away in sinne, 

In sensuall lust, and midnight bezeling. 

Banke inundation of luxuriousnesse 

Have tainted him with such grosse beastlinesse. 

That now the seat of that celestiall essence 

Is all possest with Naples pestilence. 

Fat peace, and dissolute impietie. 

Have lulled him in such securitie. 

That now, let whirlwinds and confosion teare 

The center of our state ; let giants reare 

HiU upon hill ; let westeme termagant 

Shake heavens vault : he, with his occupant. 

Are dingd so close, like deaw-worms in the mome. 

That he le not stir till out his guts are tome 

With eating filth. Tubrio, snort on, snort on. 

Til thou art wak't with sad confusion. 

Now raile no more at my sharpe cynick sound. 
Thou brutish world, that in all vilenesse drown'd 
Hast lost thy soule : for naught but shades I see — 
Besemblances of men inhabite thee. 

Yon tissue slop, yon holy-crossed pane. 
Is but a water-spaniell that will faune. 
And kisse the water, whilst it pleasures him : 
But being once arrived at the brim. 
He shakes it off. 

Yon in the capring doake, a mimick ape. 
That onely strives to seeme anothers shape. 

Yon's -^sops asse; yon sad civility 
Is but an oxe, that with base drudgery 
Eates up the land, whilst some gilt asse doth chaw 
The golden wheat, he well apayd with straw. 


Yon 's but a muckhill over-spred with snowe. 
Which with thatvaile doth ever as fairely showe 
As the greene meades, whose native outward faire 
breathes sweet perfumes into the neighbour ayre. 

Yon effeminate sanguine Ganimede 
Is but a beyer, hunted for the bed. 

Peace, Cynick ; see, what yonder doth approach ; 
A cart ? a tumbrell P No, a badged coach. 
What's in't? Some man. No, nor yet wowan kinde, 
But a celestiall angell, faiie, refinde. 
The diyell as soone ! Her maske ^o hinders me, 
I cannot see her beauties deitie. 
Now that is off, she is so vizarded. 
So steept in lemons juyce, so surphuled, 
I cannot see her face. Under one hoode 
Two faces ; but I never understood 
Or saw one face under two hoods till now : 
Tis the right se'mblance of old Janus brow. 
Her ma^ke, her vizard, her loose-hangmg gowne 
(For her loose-lying body), her bright spangled crowne. 
Her long slit sleeves, stiffe buske, puffe verdingall. 
Is all that makes her thus angelicall. 
Alas ! her soule struts round about her neck ; 
Her seate of sense is her rebato set ; 
Her intellectuall is a fained nicenesse. 
Nothing but clothes and simpring precisenesse. 

Out on these puppets, painted images. 
Haberdashers shops, torch-light maskeries, 
Ferfaming pans, Dutch ancients, glowe-worms bright, 
That soyle our soules, and dampe our reasons light ! 
Away, away, hence, coach-man, goe inshrine 
Thy new-glas'd puppet in port Esqueline ! 


Blush, Martia, feare not, or looke pale, al's one ; 

Margara keepes tiiy set complexion. 

Sure I nere thinke those axioms to be true. 

That soules of men from that great soule ensue. 

And of his essence doe participate 

As 'twere by pipes ; when so degenerate. 

So adverse ib our natures motion. 

To his immaculate condition^ 

That such foule filth from such faire puritie. 

Such sensuall acts from such a Deitie, 

Can nere proceed. But if that dreame were so, 

Then sure the slime, that from our soules do flowe. 

Have stopt those pipes by which it was convei'd. 

And now no humane creatures, once disrai'd 

Of that faire jem. 

Beasts sense, plants growth, like being as a stone ; 

But out, alas! our cognisance is gone. 



[N serious jest, and Jesting seriousnesse, 
I strive to scourge polluting beastlinesse ; 
I invocate no Delian deitie, 
No sacred ofspring of Mnemosyne ; 
X pray in aid of no Castalian muse, 
K9 nymph, no femal angell, to infuse 
A sprightly wit to raise my flagging wings, 
And teach me tune these harsh discordant strings. 
I crave no syrens of our halcion times. 
To graee the accents of my rough-hew'd rimes ; 
But grim Beproofe, steame hate of villany, 
Inspire and guide a Satyres poesie. 
Eaire Detestation of foule odious sinne, 
In which our swinish times lye wallowing, 
Be thou my conduct and my genius. 
My wits inciting sweet-breath 'd Zephirus. 
that a Satyres hand had force to pluck 
Some fludgate up, to purge the world from muck ! 
Would God I could tume Alpheus river in. 
To purge this Augean oxstaU from foule sinne ! 
Well, Twill try; aWake, Lnpuritie, 
And view the vaile drawne from thy villany ! 


Jam orato Ourio. 

CURIO, aye me 1 thy mistrea monkey 'a dead ; 
Alaa, alaa, her pleaaurea buried 1 
Goe, woman'a alave, performe hia exequies, 
Condole his death in moumfiill elegies. 
Tut, rather peans sing, hermaphrodite ; 
For that sad death gives life to thy delight. 
Sweet-fac't Corinna, daine the riband tie 
Of thy cork-shooe, or els thy slave will die : 
Some puling sonnet toles his passing bell. 
Some sighing elegie must ring hia knell, 
Unleaae bright aunahine of thy grace revive 
Hia wambling atomack, certea he will dive 
Into the whirle-poole of devouring death, 
And to aome mermaid aacrifice hia breath. 
Then oh, oh then, to thy etemall ahame, 
And to the honour of sweet Curioa name, 
Thia epitaph, upon the marble stone, 
Muat faire be grav'd of that true-loving one : 
" Heere lyeth he, he lyeth here. 
That bounc't and pittie cryed : 
The doore not op't, fell aicke, alas, 
Alaa, fell aicke and dyed !" 
What Mirmidon, or hard Dolopian, 
What aavage-minded rude Cydopian, 
But auch a aweete pathetique Paphian 
Would force to laughter P Ho, Amphitrion, 


Thou art no cuckold. What, though Jove dallied, 

During thy warres, in faire Alcmanas bed. 

Yet Hercules, true borne, that imbedllitie 

Of corrupt nature, all apparantly 

Appears in him. O foule indignitie ! 

I heard him vow himselfe a slave to Omphale, 

Puling "Aye me !" O valours obloquie ! 

He that the inmost nooks of hell did Igiow, 

Whose nere craz'd prowesse all did overthrow, 

Lyes streaking brawny limmes in weakning bed ; 

Perfum'd, smooth kemb'd, new glaz'd, fair surphuled. 

O that the boundlesse power of the soule 

Should be subjected to such base controule ! 

Big-limm'd Alcides, doffe thy. honours crowne, 
Goe spin, huge slave, least Omphale should frowne. 
By my best hopes, I blush with griefe and shame 
To broach the peasant basenesse of our pame. 

O, now my ruder hand begms to quake, 
To thinke what loftie cedars I must shake ; 
But if the canker fret the barkes of oakes. 
Like humbler shrubs shall equal beare the stroaks 
Of my respectlesse rude Satyrick hand. 

Uulesse the Destin's adamantine band 
Should tye my teeth, I cannot chuse, but bite. 
To view Mavortius metamorphoz'd quite. 
To puling sighes, and into " Aye mee 's " state, 
With voice distinct, all fine articulate. 
Lisping, " Faire saint, my woe compassionate ; 
By heaven 1 thine eye is my soule-guiding fate." 

The god of wounds had wont on Cyprian couch 
To streake himselfe, and with incensing touch 
To faint his force, onely when wrath had end ; 


Bat now, 'mong furious garboiles, he doth spend 

His feebled valour, in tilt and tumeying, 

With wet tum'd kisses, melting dallying. 

A poxe upon 't that Bacchis name should be 

The watch-word given to the souldierie ! 

Goe, troupe to field, mount thy obscured fame. 

Cry out S. George, invoke thy ndstresse name; 

Thy mistresse and S. George, alarum cry, 

" Weake force, weake ayde, that sprouts from luxury V 

Thou tedious workmanship, of lust-stung Jove, 
Down from thy skyes, enjoy our females love : 
Soitie fiftie more Beotian girles will sue 
To have thy love, so that thy back be true. 

O, now me thinks I heare swart Martina cry. 
Souping along in warres faind maskerie ; 
By Lais starrie front he 'le forthwith die 
In dutti-ed bloud, his mistres livorie ; 
Her fancies colours waves upon his head ; 
O, well-fenc't Albion, mainly manly sped, 
When those that are soldadoes in thy state 
Doe beare the badge of base, effeminate, 
Even on their plumie crests ; brutes sensuall. 
Having no sparke of intellectual 1 
Alack ! what hope, when some rank nasty wench 
Is subject of their vo\^es and confidence? 

Publius hates vainly to idolatries. 
And laughes that Papists honour images ; 
And yet (O madnesse !) these mine eyes did see 
Him melt in moving plants, obsequiously 
Imploring favor ; twining his kinde armes. 
Using inchauntments, exordsmes, charmes ; 


The oyle of sonnets, wanton blandisliment, 

The force of teares, and seeming languishment, 

TJnto the picture of a painted lasse 1 

I saw him court his mistresse looking-glasse, 

"Worship a busk-point, which, in secresie, 

I feare was conscious of strange villany ; 

I saw him crouch, devote his liveKhbod, 

Sweare^ protest, vow pesant servitude 

TJnto a painted puppet ; to her eyes 

I heard him sweare his sighes to sacrifice. 

But if he get her itch-alaying pinne, 

O sacred relique ! straight he must beginne 

To rave out-right — ^then thus : " Celestiall blisse. 

Can Heaven grant so rich a grace as this ? 

Touch it not (by the Iiord ! sir), tis divine 1 

It once beheld her radiant eyes bright shin6 1 

Her haire imbrac't it. thrice-happy prick. 

That there was thron'd, and in her haire didst stick !" 

Kisse, blesse, adore it, Publius, never linne ; 

Some sacred vertue lorketh in the pinne. 

O frantick, fond, pathetique passion ! 
1st possible such sensuall action 
Should dip the wings of contemplation? 
O can it be the spirits function, 
The soule, not subject to dimension, 
Should be made slave to reprehension 
Of crafty natures paint ? Fie ! can our soule 
Be underling to such a vile controule P 

Saturio wish't himselfe his mistresse buske. 
That he. may sweetly lie, and softly luske 
Betweene her paps ; then must he have an eye 
At eyther end, that freely might descry 

III. 19 


Both hils and dales. But, out on Phrigio, 

That wish't he were his mistresse dog, to goe 

And licke her milke-white fist ! pretty grace ! 

That pretty Phrigio begs but Pretties place. 

ParthenopbeU, thy wish I will omit, 

So beastly tis I may not utter it. 

But,Punicu8, of all I 'le beare with thee, 

That faine would'st be thy mistresse smug munkey. 

Here 's one would be a flea (jest comicall I) ; 

Another, his sweet ladies verdingall. 

To clip her tender breech ; another, he 

Her silver-handled fan would gladly be ; 

Here 's one would be his mistresse neck-lace faine. 

To clip her faire, and kisse her azure vaine. 

Fond fooles, well wisht, and pitty but should be ; 

For beastly shape to brutish soules agree. 

If Lauras painted lip doe daine a kisse 
To her enamour'd slave, " Heavens, bhsse T* 
(Straight he exclames) " not to be matcht with this V 
Blaspheming dolt ! goe three-score sonnets write 
Upon a pictures kisse, O raving spright ! 

I am not saplesse, old, or reumatick. 
No Hipponax mishapen stigmatick. 
That I should thus inveigh 'gainst amorous spright 
Of him whose soule doth tume hermaphrodite ; 
But I doe sadly grieve, and inly vexe. 
To viewe the base dishonour of our sexe. 

Tush ! guiltlesse doves, when gods, to force foule rapes, 
Will tume themselves to any brutish shapes ; 
Base bastard powers, whom the world doth see 
Transform'd to swine for sensual luxurie ! 


The Sonne of Satume is become a bull. 
To crop the beauties of some female trull. 
!Now, when he hath his first wife Metim sped, 
And fairely clok't, least foole gods should be bred 
Of that fond mule, Themis, his second wife. 
Hath tum'd away, that his unbrideled life 
Might have more scope ; yet, last, his sisters love 
Must satiate the lustful! thoughts of Jove. 
"Now doth the lecher, in a cuckowes shape, 
Commit a monstrous and incestuous rape. 
Thrice sacred gods ! and thrice blessed skies. 
Whose orbes includes such vertuous deities ! 

What should I say ? Lust hath confounded all ; 
The bright glosse of our intellectuall 
Is fouly soyl'd. The wanton wallowing 
In fond delights, and amorous dallying, 
Hath dusk't the fairest splendour of our soule ; 
Nothing now left but carkas, lothsome, foule ; 
For sure, if that some spright remained still, 
Could it be subject to lewd Lais will ? 

Eeason, by prudence in her function, 
Had wont to tutor all our action, 
Ayding, with precepts of philosophic. 
Our feebled natures imbecillitie ; 
But now affection, will, concupiscence. 
Have got o're reason chiefe preheminence. 
Tis so ; els how should such vile basenesse taint 
As force it be made slave to natures paint ? 
Me thinks the spirits Fegase Fantasie 
Should hoyse the soule from such base slavery ; 
But now I see, and can right plainly showe 
From whence such abject thoughts and actions grow. 


Our adverse bodie, being earthly, oold> cold, 
Heavie, dull, mortall, would not long infold 
A stranger inmate, that was backward still 
To all his dungy, brutish, sensuall will : 
Now hereupon our intellectuall. 
Compact of fire all celestiall, 
Invisible, immortall, and divine, 
Grew straight to soome his land-lords muddy slime ; 
And therefore now is closely slunke away 
(Leaving his smoaky house of mortall clay), 
Adom'd with all lus beauties lineaments 
And brightest jems of shining ornaments. 
His parts divine, sacred, spirituall. 
Attending on him ; leaving the sensuall 
Base hangers on lusking at home in slime. 
Such as wont to stop port Esqueline. 
Now doth the bodie, led with seneelesse will 
(The which, in reasons absence, ruleth still), 
Have, talkeidely, as 'twere somedeitie 
Adorning female painted puppetry ; 
Playing at put-pin, doting on some glasse 
(Which, breath'd but on, his falsed glosse doth passe) ; 
Toying with babies, and with fond pastime. 
Some childrens sporte, deflowring of chaste time ; 
Imploying all his wits in vaine expense. 
Abusing all his organons of sense: 

Betume, retume, sacred Synderesis ! 
Inspire our trunks 1 Let not such mud as this 
Pollute us still. Awake our lethargy, 
Eaise us from out our braine*sicke fodery ! 




Here 's a Toy to wocke an Apfi mdeede, 
RIM-FACT Reproofe, sparkle with threatning eye ! 

Bend thy sower browes in my tart poesie ! 
Avaunt ! yee enrres, houle in some cloudy mist. 
Quake to behold a sharp-fangd satyrist 1 
O how on tip-toes proudly mounts my muse I 
Stalking a loftier gate then satyree use. 
Me thinks some sacred rage warmes all my Taines, 
Making my spright mount up to higher straines 
Then well beseemes a rough-tongu'd satyres part ; 
But Art curbs Nature, Nature guideth Art. 

Come downe, yee apes, or I will strip you quite. 
Baring your bald tayles to the peoples «ight ! 
Yee mimick slaves, what, are you percht so hie? 
Downe, Jackanapes, from thy fain'd royalty \ 
What ! fan^d with beard — cast i)i a satin sute, 
Judiciali Jack ? How hast thou got repute 
Of a sound e^isure ? idiot times \ 
When gaudy monkeys mowe ore sprightly rimes ! 
O world of fooles ! when aU men's judgement 's set, 
And rest upon some mumping mearmoset 1 
Yon Athens ape (that can but simpringly 
Yaule " jindiiorea humanimmi / '* 
Bound to some servile imitation. 
Can, with much sweat, patch an oration). 
Now up he oomes, and with his erooked eye 
Presumes to squint on some faire poesie ; 


And all as thanklesse as tmgratefull Thames, 

He slinks away, leaving bat reaking steames 

Of dungy slime behinde. All as ingraie 

He nseth it as when I satiate 

My spanielles paunch, who straight perfumes the roome 

With lus tailes filth : so this uncivill groome, 

ni-tutor'd pedant, Mortimers numbers 

With much-pit esculine filth bescumbers. 

Now the ape chatters, and is as malecontent 

As a biU-patch't doore, whose entrailes out ha?e sent 

And spewd their tenant. 

My soule adores judidall schollership ; 
But when to servile imitatorship 
Some spruce Athenian pen is prentized, 
Tis worse then apish. Fie ! be not flattered 
With seeming worth 1 Fond affectg^tion 
Befits an ape, and mumping BabUon. 

what a tricksie, lemed, nicking strain 

Is this applauded, senselese, modem* vain ! 
When late I heard it from sage Mutius lips. 
How ill, me thought, such wanton jiggin skips 
Beseem'd his graver speech. " Farre fly thy fame. 
Most, most of me beloved ! whose silent name 
One letter bounds. Thy true judiciaU stile 

1 ever honour ; and, if my love beguile 

Not much my hopes, then thy unvalued worth 

Shall mount faire place, when apes are turned forth." 

I am too mild, Beach me my scourge againe ; 
O yon 's a pen speakes in a learned vaine, 

* Non IsBclere, sed ludere : non lanea, sod linea : non ictus. 
Bed nictus potius. 


Deepe, past all sense. Lanthorne and candle light ! 
Here 's all invisible — all mentall spright ! 
What hotch potch giberidge doth the poet bring ? 
How strangely speakes, yet sweetly doth he sing ? 
I once did know a tinkling pewterer, 
T&at was the vilest stumbling stutterer 
That ever hack't and hew'd our native tongue. 
Yet to the lute if you had heard him sung, 
Jesu ! how sweet he breath'd ! You can apply. 

O senselesse prose, judiciall poesie. 

How iU you 'r linkt 1 This affectation, 
To speake beyond mens apprehension. 

How apish tis, when all in fustian sute 

Is cloth'd a huge nothing, all for repute 

Of profound knowledge, when profoundness knowes 

There 's naught contain'd but onely seeming showes ! 
Old Jack of Paris-garden, canst thou get 

A faire rich sute, though fouly run in debt ? 

Looke smug, sme]l sweet, take up commodities, 

Keepe whores, fee bauds, belch impious blasphemies, 

Wallow along in swaggering disguise, 

Snuffe up smoak-whiffs, and each mome, 'fore she rise, 

Visit thy drab ? Canst use a false cut die 

With a cleane grace and glib facilitie ? 

Canst thunder cannon oathes, like th' rattling 

Of a huge, double, ful-charg'd culvering ? 

Then Jack, troupe 'mong our gallants, kisse thy fist. 

And call them brothers ; say a satyrist 
Sweares they are thine in neere afllnitie, 
All coosin germanes, save in villany ; 
For (sadly, truth to say) what are they else 
But imitators of lewde beastlynesse P 


Farre worse than apes ; for mowe or scratch your pate> 

It may be some odde ape will imitate ; 

But let a youth that hath abus'd his time 

In wronged travaile, in that hoter clime, 

Swoope by old Jack, in clothes Italionate, 

And I 'le be hang'd if he will imitate 

His strange fontastique sute shapes : 

Or let him bring or'e beastly luxuries. 

Some hell-devised lustfiill yillanies. 

Even apes and beasts would blush with native shame. 

And thinke it foule dishonour to their name — 

Their beastly name, to imitate such sinne 

As our lewd youths doe boast and glory in. 

Fie I whether do these monkeys carry mee P 
Their very names do soyle my poesie. 
Thou world of marmosets and mumping apes, 
Unmaske, put off thy fained, borrowed shapes ! 
Why lookes neat Gurus all so simpringly ? 
Why babblest thou of deepe divinitie, 
And of that sacred testimonial!. 
Living voluptuous like a bacchanall P 
Good hath thy tongue ; but thou, rank Puritan, 
I 'le make an ape as good a Christian ; 
I 'le force him chatter, turning up his eye, 
Looke sad, go grave. Demure civilitie 
Shall seeme to say, '' Good brother, sister deere I" 
As for the rest, to snort in belly cheere. 
To bite, to gnaw, and boldly intermell 
With sacred things, in which thou dost exoell, 
Unforc't he 'le doe. O take compassion 
Even on your soules I Make not Eeligion 


A bawde to lewdnease. Civill Socrates, 

Clyp not the youth of Alcibiades 

With nnchast armes. Disguised Messaliue, 

I 'le teare thy maske, and bare thee to the eyne 

Of hissing boyes, if to the theatres 

I finde thee once moie come for lecherers, 

To satiate (nay, to tyer) thee with the use 

Of weakning lust. Tee fainers, leave t' abuse 

Our better thoughts with your hypocrisie ; 

Or, by the ever-living veritie ! 

I 'le strip you nak't, and whip you with my rimes. 

Causing your shame to live to after-times. 

StuUorum plena 8uni omnia, 


FROM out the sadnesse of my discontent. 
Hating my wonted jocund merriment 
(Only to give dull time a swifter wing). 
Thus scorning scome, of idiot fooles I sing. 
I dread no bending of an angry brow, 
Or rage of fooles that I shall purchase now ; 
Who 'le scorn to sit in ranke of foolery, 
When I 'le be master of the company ? 
For pre-thee, Ned, I pre-thee, gentle lad. 
Is not he frantique, foolish, bedlam mad. 
That wastes his spright, that melts his very braine 
In deepe designes, in wits dark gloomy straine ? , 
That scourgeth great slaves with a dreadlesse fist, 
Playing the rough part of a satyrist, 


To be perus'd by all the dung-scum rable 
Of thin-braind idiots, dull, uncapable. 
For mimicke apish schollers, pedants, guls, 
Perfum'd inamoratoes, brothell truls ? 
Whilst I (poore soule) abuse chast virgin time, 
De^owring her with unconceived rime. 
" Tut, tut ; a toy of an idle empty braine. 
Some scurril jests, light gew-gawes, fruitelesse, vaine," 
Cryes beard-grave Dromus ; when, alas! God knows 
His toothlesse gum nere chew but outward ^hows. 
Poore budge face, bowcase sleeve : but let him passe ; 
" Once fiirre and beard shall priviledge an asse." 

And tell me, Ned, what might that gallant be, 
Who, to obtaine intemperate luxury. 
Cuckolds his elder brother, gets an heire. 
By which his hope is turned to despaire ? 
In faith (good Ned), he damn'd himselfe with cost ; 
For well thou know'st full goodly land was lost. 

I am too private. Yet me thinkes an asse 
Eimes well with viderit utiliias; 
Even full as well, I boldly dare averre. 
As any of that stinking scavenger 
Which from his dunghill be bedaubed on 
l%e latter page of old Figmalion, 
O that this brother of hypocrisie 
(Applauded by his pure fratemitie) 
Should thus be puffed, and so proude insist 
As play on me the epigrammatist ! 
" Opinion mounts this froth imto the skies. 
Whom judgemente reason justly vilifies." 
For (shame to the poet) reade, Ned, behold 
How wit+^'i'^ « ^«^°ters*hoode can scold ! 


An Epigsam which the Author, Vergidemiarum, caused 
to be pasted to the latter page of every Figmalion that 
came to the Stationers of Cambridge. 

/ ask't Fhisitions what their counsell waa 

For a mad dogge^ or for a mankind asae ? 

They told me^ though there were confections store 

Qf poppie-aeede and soveraigne hellebore. 

The dogge waa heat cured by cutting and kinaing,* 

The aaae muat be kindly whipped for winaing. 

Now then, S. X. I little paaae 

Whether thou be a mad dogge or a mankind aaae. 

Medice cura teipaum. 

Smart jerke of wit I Did ever such a straiue 

Bise from an apish schoole-boyes chUdish braine ? 

Dost thou not blush, good Ned, that such a sent 

Should rise from thence, where thou hadst nutriment ? 

•* Shame to Opinion, that perfumes his dung, 

And streweth flowers rotten bones among ! 

Juggling Opinion, thou inchaunting witch ! 

Paint not a rotten post with colours rich." 

But now this juggler, with the worlds consent. 

Hath half his soule ; the other, complement. 

Mad world the whilst. But I forget mee, I, 

I am seduced with this poesie, 

And, madder then a bedlam, spend sweet time 

In bitter numbers, in this idle rime. 

Out on this humour 1 From a sickly bed, 

And from a moodie minde distempered, 

* Mark the witty allusion to my iiame. 


I voniit forth my love, now tum'd to hate, 

Scorning the honour of a poets state. 

Nor shall the kennell rout of muddy braines 

Bavish my muses heyre, or heare my straines, 

Once more. No nittie pedant shall correct 

iEnigmaes to his shallow intellect. 

Inchauntment, Ned, hath ravished my sense 

In a poetick vaine circumference. 

Yet thus I hope (God shield I now should lie), 

" Many more foQles, an^ most n^ore wise then I." 




SLEEP, grim Reproofe ; my jocund muse doth sing 
Li other keys, to nimbler fingering. 
Dull-sprighted Melancholy, leave my brain 
To hell Gimerian night ; in lively vaine 
I strive to paint, then hence all darke intent 
And sullen frownes. Come, sporting Merriment, 
Cheeke-dimpling Laughter, crowne my very soule 
With jouisance, whilst mirthfuU jests controule 
The gouty humours of these pride-swolne dales. 
Which I do long untill my pen displaies. 
O, I am great with Mirth ! some midwiMe, 
Or I shall breake my sides at vanitie. 
Boome for a capering mouth. Whose lips nere stur 
But in discoursing of the gracefull slur. 
Who ever heard spruce skipping Gurio 
Ere prate of ought but of the whirle on toe. 

SeOURGB OF riLLANm. 301 

The tume about ground, Bobrus sprauling Idcks, 

Fabius caper, Harries tossing tricks P 

Did ever any eare ere heare him speake 

Unlesse his tongue of crosse-points did intreat ? 

His teeth doe caper whilst he eates his meat. 

His heeles doe caper whilst he takes his seate ; 

His very soule, his intellectuall 

Is nothing but a mincing capreall. 

He dreames of toe-tumes ; each gallant he doth meete 

He fronts him with a traverse in the streete. 

Praise but Orchestra, and the skipping art. 

You shall commaund him, faith you have his hart 

Even capring in your fist. A' hall, a hall, 

Eoome for the spheres, the orbs oelestiall 

Will daunce Kemps jigge ; they 'le revel with neate jumps ; 

A worthy poet hath put on their pumps. 

wits quick traverse, but sance ceo's slowe ; 
Good faith tis hard for nimble Curio. 

" Ye gracious orbes, keepe the old measuring; 
M's spoilde if once yee fall to capering." 

Luscus, what 's plaid to day P Faith now I know 

1 set thy lips abroach, from whence doth flowe 
Naught but pure Juliet and Romeo. 

Say who acts best ? Drusus or Boscio ? 
Now I have him, that nere of ought did speake 
But when of playes or players he did treat- 
Hath made a common-place booke out of playes, 
And speakes in print : at least what ere he sales 
Is warranted by curtaine plaudities. 
If ere you heard him courting Lesbias eyes. 
Say (curteous sir), speakes he not movingly, 
From out some new pathetique tragedy? 


He writes, he railes, he jests, he courts (what not?), 
And all from out his huge long scraped stock 
Of well-penn'd playes. 

Oh come tiot within distance ! Martins speakes, 
Who nere discourseth but of fencing feats, 
Of counter iimeA, ftncturei, sly paasaiaes, 
StramcLzoneSf resolute stoccaies. 
Of the quick change with wiping mandritta. 
The carricada, with th' enhrocaia, 
" Oh, by Jesu, sir ! " me thinks I heare him cry, 
" The honourable fencing mystery 
Who doth not honour P " Then fals he in againe, 
Jading our eares, and somewhat must be saine 
Of blades and rapier-hilts, of surest garde. 
Of Vincentio, and the Burgonians ward. 

This bumbast foile-button I once did see, 
By chaunce, in Livias modest company ; 
When, after the god-saving ceremony, 
For want of talke-stuffe, fals to foinery ; 
Out goes his rapier, and to Livia 
He shewes the ward by puncta reversa. 
The incamaia. Nay, by the blessed light ! 
Before he goes, he 'le teach her how to fight 
And hold her weapon. Oh I laugh amaine, 
To see the madnes of this Martins vaine ! 

But roome for Tuscus, that jest-mounging youth 
Who nere did ope his apish gerning mouth 
But to retaile and broke anothers wit. 
Discourse of what you will, he straight can fit 
Your present talke, with " Sir, I 'le tell a jest" 
(Of some sweet ladie, or graund lord at ieast), 


Then on he goes, and nere his tongue shall lie 

Till his ingrossed jests are all drawne dry ; 

But then as dumbe as Maorus, when at play 

Hath lost his crownes, and paun'd his trim array. 

He doth naught but retaile jests : breake but one. 

Out flies his table-booke ; let him alone, 

He 'le have it i-faith. Lad, hast an epigram. 

Wilt have it put into the chaps of fame ? 

Give Tuscus copies ; sooth, as his .owne wit 

(His proper issue) he will father it. 

O that this eccho, that doth seake, spet, write 

Naught but the excrements of others spright. 

This il-stuft trunke of jests (whose very soule 

Is but a heape of jibes) should once inroule 

His name 'mong creatures termed rational! ! 

Whose chiefe repute, whose sense, whose soule and all 

Are fed with oflTall scraps, that sometimes fall 

From liberall wits in their large festivall. 

Come aloft, Jack, roome for a vaulting skip, 
Boome for Torquatus, that nere op't his lip . 
But in prate oipummado reoersa. 
Of the nimbling, tumbling Angelica. 
Now, on my soule, his very intellect 
Is naught but a curvetting sommerset. 

" Hush, hush," cries honest Phylo, " peace, desist ! 
Dost thou not tremble, sower satyrist. 
Now that judiciall Musus readeth thee ? 
He 'le whip each line, he 'le scourge thy balladry. 
Good faith he will." Philo, I prethee stay 
Whilst I the humour of this dogge display. 
He 's naught but censure ; wilt thou credit me. 
He never writ one line in poesie. 


But once at Athens in a theame did frame 
A paradox in praise of vertaes name ; 
Which still he hugs and luls as tenderly 
As cuckold Tisus his wifes bastardie ? 
Well, here 's a challange : I flatly say he lyes 
That heard him ought b\it censure poesies ; 
Tis his discourse, first having knit the brow. 
Stroke up his fore-top, champed every row, 
Belcheth his slavering censure on each booke 
That dare presume even on Medusa looke. 

I have no artists skill in symphonies, 
Tet when some pleasing diapason flies 
From out the belly of a sweete-touch't lute. 
My cares dare say tis good : or when they sute 
Some harsher seauens for varietie, 
My native skill discemes it presently. 
What then? Will any sottish dolt repute. 
Or ever thinke me Orpheus absolute ? 
Shall all the world of fidlers foUow mee, 
Eelying on my voice in musickrie ? 

Musus, heere 's Khodes ; lets see thy boasted leape. 
Or els avaunt, lewd curre, presume not speake, 
Or with thy venome-sputteriug chaps to barke 
'Gainst weU-pend poems, in the tongue-tied dark. 

for a humour, looke, who yon doth goe. 
The meager lecher, lewd Luxurio I 
Tis he that hath the sole monopoly. 
By patent, of the superb lechery ; 
No newe edition of drabbes comes out. 
But scene and allow'd by Luxuries snout. 
Did ever any man ere heare him talke. 
But of Pick-hatch, or of some Shoreditch baulke. 


Aietines filth, or of his wandring whore ; 
Of some Cynedian, or of Tacedore ; 
Of Euscns nasty, lothsome brothell rime. 
That stinks like Ajax froth, or muck-pit slime ? 
The news he tela you is of some newe flesh, 
Lately brooke up, span newe, hote piping fresh. 
The cortisie he shewes you is some mome 
To give you Venus fore his smock be on. 
His eyes, his tongue, his soule, his all, is lust. 
Which vengeance and confusion follow must. 
Out on this salt humour, letchers dropsie. 
Fie ! it doth soyle my chaster poesie ! 

O spruce ! How now, Piso, Aurelius ape. 
What strange disguise, what new deformed shape. 
Doth hold thy thoughts in contemplation ? 
Faith say, what fashion art thou thinking on ? 
A stitcht taffata doake, a pair of slops 
Of Spanish leather? O, who heard his chops 
Ere chew of ought but of some strange disguise ? 
This fashion-mounger, each mome fore he rise. 
Contemplates sute shapes, and once from out his bed. 
He hath theiA straight full lively portrayed. 
And then he chukes, and is as proude of this 
As Taphus when he got his neighbours blisse. 
All fashions, since the first yeare of this queene, 
May in his study fairely drawne be scene ; 
And all that shall be to his day of doome. 
You may peruse within that little roome ; ^ .? V 

For not a fashion once dare show his face. 
But from neat Pyso first must take his grace : 
The long fooles coat, the huge slop, the lugd boot, 
From mimick Pyso all doe claime their roote. 

III. 20 



O that the boundlesse power of the sonle 
Should be coop't up in fashioning some roule 1 

But O, Suffenus ! (that doth hugge, imbrace 
His proper selfe, admires his owne sweet face; 
Prayseth his owne faire limmes proportion, 
Kisseth his shade, recounteth all alone 
His owne good parts) who envies him ? Not I, 
For well he may, without all rivalrie. 

Fie ! whether 's fled my sprites alacntie ? 
How dull I vent this humorous poesie I 
In faith I am sad, I am possest with ruth. 
To see the vainenesse of faire Albions youth; 
To see their richest time even wholly spent 
In that which is but gentries, ornament ; 
Which, being meanly done, becomes them well ; 
But when with deere times losse they doe exoell, 
How ill they doe things well 1 To daunce and sing. 
To vault, to fence, and fairely trot a ring 
With good grace, meanely done, O what repute 
They doe beget ! But being absolute, 
It argues too much time, too much regard 
Imploy'd in that which might be better spar'd 
Then substance should be lost. If one should sewe 
For Lesbias love, having two daies to wooe, 
And not one more, and should imploy those twaine 
The favour of her wayting-wench to gaine. 
Were he not mad ? Tour apprehension. 
Tour wits are quick in application. 

Me thinks your soules should grudge and inly scorn 
To be made slaves to humours that are borne 
In slime of filthy sensualitie. 
That part not sub^ex^ to mortaHtie 


(Boundlesse, discursive apprehension 

Giving it wings to act his function), 

Me thinks should murmur when you stop his course. 

And soyle his beauties in some beastly source 

Of brutish pleasures ; but it is so poore, 

So weake, so hunger-bitten, evermore 

Kept from his foode, meager for want of meate, 

Scom'd and rejected, thrust from out his seate, 

Upbrai'd by capons greaoe, consumed quite 

By eating stewes, that waste the better spright, 

Snibd by his baser parts, that now poore soule 

(Thus pesanted to each lewd thoughts controule) 

Hath lost all heart, bearing all injuries. 

The utmost spight, and rank'st indignities. 

With forced willingnesse ; taking great joy. 

If you will daine his faculties imploy 

But in the mean'st ingenious qualitie. 

(How proud he '11 be of any dignitie !) 

Put it to musick, daundng, fencing schoole, 

Lord, how I laugh to heare the prettie foole, 

How it will prate ! His tongue shall never lie, 

But still discourse of his spruce qualitie. 

Egging his master to proceede from this, 

And get the substance of celestiall blisse. 

His lord straight cals his parliament of sence ; 

But still the sensuall have preheminence. 

The poore soules better part so feeble is, 

So colde and dead is his Synderesis, 

" That shadowes, by odde chaunce, sometimes are got ; 

But the substance is respected not !" 

Here ends my rage. Though angry brow was bent, 

Yet I have sung in sporting merriment. 




THOU mightie gulfe, insatiat cormorant ! 
Deride me not, though I seeme petulant 
To fall into thy chops. Let others pray 
Por ever their faire poems flourish may ; 
But as for mee, hungry Oblivion 
Devour me quick, accept my orizon : 

My earnest prayers, which doe importune thee. 
With gloomy shade of thy still emperie. 
To vaile both me and my rude poesie. 
Farre worthier lines, in silence of thy state. 
Doe sleepe securely, free from love or hate ; 
From which this living nere can be exempt. 
But whilst it breathes will hate and fiirie tempt . 
Then close his eyes with thy aU-dimming hand. 
Which not right glorious actions can with-stand ; 
Peace, hatefull tongues, I now in silence pace, 
Unlesse some hounde doe wake me from my place, 
I with this shai-pe, yet well-meant poesie, 
Will sleepe secure, right free from injurie 
Of cancred hate, or rankest villanie. 

a.^ ii -. - I . ..J i.,..., i j gwsggBJBHBe^^W^^^^^1g! 



GENTLE or ungentle hand that holdest mee, let not 
thine eye be cast upon privatenesse, for I protest I 
glaunce not on it. If thou hast perused mee, what lesser 
£ivour canst thou grant then not to abuse mee with 
unjust application ? Yet, I feare mee, I shall be much, 
much injured by two sortes of readers : the one being 
ignorant, not knowing the nature of a satyre (which is, 
under fained private names, to note generall vices), wiU 
needes wrest each fained name to a private unfained 
person. The other, too subtile, bearing a private malice 
to some greater personage then hee dare, in his owne 
person, seeme to maligne, will strive, by a forced applica- 
tion of my generall reproofes, to broach his private hatred, 
then the which I knowe not a greater injury can be offered 
to a satyrist. I durst presume, knew they how guiltlesse 
and how free I were from prying into privatenesse, they 
would blush to thinke how much they wrong themselves 
in seeking to injure mee. Let this protestation satisfie 
our curious searchers ; so may I obtaine my best hopes, as 
I am free from endeavouring to blast anie private man's 
good name. K any one (forced with his owne guilt) will 
tume it home and say, " Tis I," I can not hinder him ; 
neither do I injure him. For other faults of poesie, I 
crave no pardon, in that I scorneaU pennance the bitterest 
censurer can iihpose upon mee. Thus (wishing each' 
man to leave enquiring whom I am, and leame to knowe 
himselfe) I take a solemn congee of this fustic world, 



The Lorde and Ladye Huntingdon's 





The firste Nighte of her Honoris Arrivall at the 
House of Ashby. 

Written by Iohn Marston. 


Countess Dowager of Dauby, 


If my slight Muse may suit your noble merit. 
My hopes are crown'd, and I shall cheere my spirit ; 
But if my weake quill droopes or seems unfitt, 
'Tis not your want of worth, but mine of witt. 
The servant of your honor'd vertues, 

John Mabston. 

When hir Ladishipp approached the Parke comer, a 
full noise of cometts winded ; and when she entered into 
the Farke^ the treble cometts reported one to another, as 
giveinge waminge of her Honor's neerer approach ; when 
presently hir eye was saluted with an antique gate, 
sodenly erected; uppon did hang many silver scroles 
with this word in them> Tanium uni. Uppon the battle- 
ments three gilt shields in diamond-figure, impaled on the 
top with three coronetts purfled with gould, and severally 
inscribed with silver words, in the first, Fenisti tandem; 
in the second, Nostra sera ; in the third, Et sola voluptai. 


Oyer these, upon a half sphere, stood embossed an antique 
figure guilt; the sleight towers to his gate raysed for 
show, were sett out with battlements, shields, and coronets 
sutable to the rest. Nere the gate an old Inchantresse in 
crimson velyet, with pale face, bkcke haire, and dislyking 
countenance, affronted her Ladishipp, and thus rudely 
saluted her : — 

Woman, Lady, Princess, Nymphe, or Groddesse, 
For more you are not, and you seeme no lesse ; 
Stay, attempt not passage through this port, 
Here the pale Lord of Sadness kepes his court, 
Eough-visag'd Satume, on whose bloudles chekes. 
Dull Melancholic sitts, whoe straightly sekes 
To sease on all that enter through this gate. 
Grant gratious listning, and 1 shall relate 
The meanes^ the manner, and of all the sense, 
Whilst your faire eye enforceth eloquence. 
There was a tyme, and since that time the sun 
Hath yet not through the signes of Heaven run ; 
When the heghe Sylvan, whoe commands these woods, 
And his bright Nymphe, fairer then Queen of Floods ; 
With most impatient longings hop'd to view 
Her face, to whome ther harts' deer'st zeale was due. 
Touth-joys to love, swete light unto the blind. 
Beauty to virgins, or what witt can fynd 
Most dearly wished, was not so much desired 
As she to them ; O my dull soul is fired 
To tell their longings, but yt is a piece 
That would orelade the famous tongues of Greece. 
Yet long they hop'd, till Rumor struck Hope dead, 
And showed their wishes wei-e but flattered ; 


For scarce her chariot cut the easie'carthy 

And journeyed on, when Winter with cold breath 

Crosseth her way, her borrowed haire did shine 

With glittering isickks all christaline ; 

Her browes were porewig'd with softer snow, 

Her msset mantle, fring'd with ice below. 

Sate closer on her back; she thus came forth. 

Ushered with tempests of the frosty North; 

And seeing her, she thought she sure had scene 

The swete-breath'd Flora, the bright Somer's Queene. 

So full of cherefoU grace she did appeare. 

That Winter feared her face recalled the yere. 

And first untimely spring'd to cease [seize] her light, 

Whereat with anger and malitious spight. 

She vows revenge ; streight with tempestuous wings. 

From Taurus, Alpes, and Caucasus she flings 

Ther covering of, and here ther thick fur spread, 

The patient earth was almost smothered. 

Up Boreas mounts, and doth so strongly blow 

Athwart her way hughe drifts of blinding snow. 

That mountaine like, att last heapes rose so high, 

Man's sight might doubt whither Heaven or Earth were 

Hereat she turned back, and left her way 
(Necessity all mortals must obey) ; 
Which was no sooner voic'd and hither flown. 
It sads but to think what griefe was shown ; 
Which to augment (mishap nere single falls), 
The God of Sadness and of Funeralls, 
Of heavie pensivenesa and discontent. 
Cold and dull Satume hither straight was sent. 


Myself, Merimna, who do wait uppoa 
Pale Melancholie and Desolation, 
Usher'd him in, when streight we strongly sease 
AH this sad house, and vowed no means should ease 
These heavie bands which pensive Satume tyed. 
Till with wisht grace this house was beautifyed. 
Pace then no further, for vouchsafe to know, 
'Till her approach here can no comfort grow ; 
'Tis onely one can ther sad bondage breake. 
Whose worth I may admire, not dare to speak. 
She 's so compleat, that her much honored state 
Gives Fortune Virtue, makes Virtue fortunate ; 
As one in whome three rare mixt virtues set 
Sene seldome joyned. Fortune, Beauty, Witt ; 
To this choice Lady and to her dere state 
All hearts do open, as alone this gate ; 
She only drives away dull Satume hence. 
She whome to praise I neede her eloquence ! 

This speach thus ended, 'presently Satume yssued from 
forth the porte, and curyously behoulding the Countesse, 
ke thus : — 

' Peace ! stay, it is, it is, it is even shee, 
Hayle happye honours of Nobilitye ! 
Did ever Satum see, or nere see such ? 
What should I style you ? &c. 
Sweete glories of your sex, know that your eyes 
Make milde the roughest planet of the skies. 
Even wee, the Lorde that sitts on ebon throanes. 
Circled with sighes and discontented groanes. 


Are forc'd at your faire presence to relent. 

At your approach all Saturn's force is spent* 

Hence> solitary Beldam, sinke to nighte, 

I give up aU to joye, and to delight. 

And now passe on, aU-happye-making Dame, Sec. 

Then passed the whole troupe to the house, untill the 
Countesse hadd mounted the staires to the greate chamber ; 
on the topp of which, Merimna^ having chaunged hir 
habitt all to white, mett her, and, whilst a consorte softly 
played, spake thus : — 

See what a chaunge the spiritt of your eyes 
Hath wrought in us, &c. 

After which ** the Countesse passed on to hir chamber." 
Then foUows "the Masque, presented by four Knights 
and four Gentlemen," &c. The forme was thus : At the 
approach of the Countesse into the greate chamber, the 
hoboyes played untill the roome was marshaled; which 
once ordered, a travers slyded away; presently a cloud 
was seen move up and downe almost to the topp of the 
greate chamber, upon which Cynthia was discovered 
ryding ; her habitt was blewe satten, fairely embroidered 
with starres and cloudes ; who, looking down and earnestly 
survaying the ladies, spake thus : — 

Are not we Cynthia P and shall earth displaye 
Brighter than us, and force untimely daye P 
What dariug flames beame such illustrious light, 
Inforcing darkness from the claime of night P 
Upp, Aryadne, thie cleare beauty rouse. 
Thou Northern crowne, &c. 


In the midst of this speech, Ariadne rose from the 
bottom of the roome, mounted npon a doud, which waved 
up untill it came nere Cynthia ; where resting, Ariadne 
spake thus : — 

Can our chaste Queene, searching Apollo's sister, 
Not know those stars that in yon vidley glister ? 
Is virtue strange to Heaven, &c. 

After many more compliments to the ladies, Cynthia 

Let's yisite them, and slyde from our aboade. 
Who loves not virtue, leaves to be a God. 
Sound, spheares, spread your harmonious breath. 
When Mortalls shine in worth, Gods grace the Earth. 

The cloudes descend, whilst softe musique soundeth. 
Cynthia and Ariadne dismount from theire clouds, and, 
pacing up to the Ladies, Cynthia, perceaving Aryadne 
wanting hir crowne of starrs, speaks thus : — 

But where is Ariadne's wreath of starrs. 

Her eight pure fiers, that studd with golden barrs 

Her shyning browes ? Hath sweet-toung'd Mercury 

Advanc'd his sonnes to station of the skye, 

And throan'd them in thy wreath ? &<;. 


Queene of chaste dew, they will not be confyn'd. 
Or fyx themselves where Mercury assynde ; 
But every night, uppon a forrest side 
On which an eagle percheth, they abide, 
And honor her, &c. 



Tell them thei err, and say that wee, the Queene 
Of night's pale lampes^ have now the substance seene 
Whose shadowe they adore. Goe, bring those eight 
At mighty Cynthia's summons. Sec. 

Presently Ariadne sings this short caU : — 

Musique and gentle night. 

Beauty, youthes' cheefe delighte. 

Pleasures all full invite 

Your due attendance to this glorious roome, 
Then, yf you have or witt or vertue, come, 
Ah, come ! ah, come ! 

Suddenly, upon this songe, the comets were winded, and 
the travers that was drawn before the masquers sanke 
downe. The whole shewe presently appeereth, which 
presented itself in this figure : the whole body of it seemed 
to be the syde of a steepely assending wood, on the top of 
which, in a fayre oak, sat a goulden eagle, under whose 
wings satt, in eight severall thrones, the eight masquers, 
with wisards like starres, theire helmes like Mercurye's, 
with the addition of fayre plumes of carnation and white, 
their antique doubletts and other furniture sutable to 
those culours, the place fuU of shields, lights, and pages 
all in blew satten robes, imbrodered with starres. The 
masquers, thus discovered, sat still untill Ariadne pro- 
nounced this invocation, at which thei descended : — 

Mercurian issue, sonnes of sonne of Jove, 
By the CyUenian rodd, and by the love 


Devotely chaste you tow Fasithea, 

Descende, &c. 

And O, yf ever you were worthe the grace 

Of viewing majesty in mortall*s face, 

Yf ere to perfect worth you vow'd hart's duty, . 

Shew spiritt worth your virtues and theire beuty. 

The violins upon this played a new measure, in which 
the masquers danced; "and ceasing, Cynthia spake : — 

Stay a little, and now breath yee, 
Whilst theis ladies grace bequeath yee. 
Then mixe faire handes, &c. 
Cynthia charmes hence what may displease yee. 
From ladies that are rudely coy. 
Barring their loves from modest joy, 
From ignorant silence, and proud lookes. 
From those that answer out bf bookes. 
From those that hate our chast delight 
I blesse the fortune of each starry Knighi. 
From gallants who still court with oathes, 
From those whose only grace is cloathes, 
From bumbaet stockings, vile legg-makers. 
From beardes and great tobacca-takers, 
I blesse the fortune of each starry dame. 
Singe, that my charme may be more stronge ; 
The goddes are bounde by verte and songe. 

The Songe. 

Audatious nighte makes bold the lippe. 
Now all court chaster pleasure. 


Whilst to Apollo's harp you trippe. 
And tread the gracing measure. 
Now meete, now breake, then fayne a warlike salley. 
So Cynthia's sports, and so the godes may dalley, &c. 

During this song, the masquers presented theire sheelds, 
and took forth their Ladyes to daunce, &c. After they had 
daunced many measures, galliards, corantos, and lavaltos, 
the night being much spent, whilst the masquers prepared 
themselves for their departing measure^ Cynthia spake 
thus: — 

Now, pleasing, rest ; for, see the nighte 
(Wherein pale Cynthia daimes her right) 
Is allmost spent ; the morning growes, 
The rose and violet she strowes 
Upon the high coelestial floore, 
'Gainst Phoebus rise from 's parramore. 
The Faieries, that my shades pursue, 
And bath theire feete in my colde dew. 
Now leave their ringletts and be quiett. 
Lest my brother's eye shoulde spy it. 
Then now let every gratious starr 
Avoide at sound of Phoebus' carr; 
Into your proper place retyre. 
With bosoms fuU of beautie's fier ; 
Hence must sHde the Queen of Moodes, 
For day beginnes to gilde the woodes. 
' Then whilst we singe, though you departe, 
I'le sweare that heere you leave your harte. 

After this, a Shepherd sings " a passionate ditty att my 
III. 31 


Lady's departure;" he then presents the Countess with a 
scarf, and adds : — 

Farewell ! farewell ! Joy, love, peace, health. 
In you long dwell, with oiir ferewell ! farewell I 

So the Countess passed on until she came through the 
little park, where Niobe presented hir with a cabinet, and 
so departed. 




I%e argument of the spectacle presented to the sacred' 
Majestys qf Great Brittan and Denmark as they 
passed through London. 

AFTER that the Recorder in the name of the Cittye 
had saluted the Majesties of Great Brittaine and 
Denmark with this short oration : 

" Serenissime, Augustissime Rex: quid enim Reges 
dicam, quos non tam conjunctio sanguinis, quam com- 
munio pietatis unam fecit ? Anni sunt quinquaginta plus 
minus, a quo Regem vel unum aspeximus; nunc duos 
simul contemplamur, admiramur: Quapropter antiqua 
civitas London, nova ista condecorata gloria, triumphat 
gaudio, salutat precibus, Majestatis binam hanc M^jes- 

"Sed quid offeremus? Corda non nostra, tua sunt, 
magne, maxime Jacobe : £t, quia tua, Regi huic, poten- 
tissimo, fratendtatis yinculo majestati vestrse conjunc- 
tissimo, amoris ergo hsec atque munusculo dicantur;" 

The Sceane or Pageant of Triumph presented itselfe in 


this figure. In the midst of a yaste sea, compassed with 
rocks, appeared the Band of Great Brittaine, supported 
on the one side by Neptune, with the force of Shippes ; on 
the other, Vulcan with the power of lome, and the com- 
moditys of tinn» lead, and other mineralls. Over the 
iland. Concord, supported by Piety, and PoUecy, satt 
inthroand : the boddy of it thus shappt, the life of it thus 
spake ; whilst the Tritons in the sea sounded lowd musique, 
the mermaids singing ; then in a doud Concord discending, 
and landing on the cragg of a rock, spake thus : — 


Gentes feroces inter, et crude necis 
Animos capaces, quibus et ignavum est mori 
Paulo coacti, quels et arma civica, 
Bellaque leouum paria lacerabant agros. 
Nunc pads alme mater, et cselo adita, 
Et arcuato celicse pads throno 
Suffulta, stabilis hie sedeo Concordia. 

Sic nempe amorum jubet et armorum Deus, 
Presto ut Britannnm principi illustri forem. 
Eeligio dextram fulsit, et monet pie 
Bonum supremmn sdre, supremum est bonum ; 
Justitia Isevam, voce sancta cognita, 
" Servate jus, servate ccelicam fidem." 
Nunc itaque, reges, tuque, super omnes mihi 
Dilecte, Brutii magne moderator soli, 
Et tu, sacrato fcedere «t fratris pio 
Nexu revinctus, vos in sternum jubet 
Salvere missa coeKtus Concordia. 
IS on has inique denuo hostilis furor 
Gentes la e easat, neque leonum fortia 


Eerro dolove oorda pertentet malo. 

Quoties in unum junctis yiribus 

Coiere Bniti, non potuit uUa rabies 

Externa quatere, ant noxii vis consilii. 

Eomana cessit aquila, donee proditor, 

Et scelere coepta dvium distractio, 

Animam addidisset hostibns, patrise metum. 

Nune sceptra cnm septena vi Normannicae 

Camberque cessit, arma deposuit diu 

Indomita leme, et insulis centnm potens 

Magni Getheri accessit antiquum genus. 

Eratemum amorem, jus sacrati foBderis 

Fideique sancte, vinculo astrinxit Jupiter ; 

Quee vis lacesset ? Quod scelus quatiet ? Quibus 

Armis dolisve insanus utetor fiiror P 

En hie frequentes et celebres civium 

Turmse, hie juventce dulce conspirans cohors, 

Matres puellis, juvenibusque misti senes, 

Vos intuentur : oninis omo suspicit. 

Hi gratiosa lumina, illi pectora 

Grenerosa pariter et serena proedicant* 

(Adventu Begia^ Insula Britannia sese ajjperiij 
Londinumqtie prodit,) 

Totius aperit Insula imperii fores, 
Ultroque prodit cana mater urbium. 


Sera quidem, at felix, coelo addenda, sereno 
Numina nata solo, illuxit prsBsentia vestra. 
Ecce, domus omnes turgeot, pleneque fenestre 
Expectantum oculos, et prospera cuncta precantum. 




Invide, Britannas complexe, Tridentifere, oras. 
Cur tarn longa pie mora gaudia distulit urbis ? 


Urbs cliara nobis, chara supremo patri, 
Non aliqua nos invidia, sed zelus tui, 
Movit, dtatque, ut cursui obstareim ratis. 
Ego, cum viderem Prindpem tantum meo 
Sedisse dorso, ac linteis plenis vehi, 
Quidnam pararet veritus, et quo tenderet, 
Remoras adhibui, fateor, ac per me obsteti, 
Ne te moveret, ne tibi damnum daret ; 
Tibi ut faverem moris, antiqui est mihi. 
Sed, amore cuncta plena fratemo widens, 
Preces benignas ut perimpleret tuas, 
Ventum ferentem et maria concessit Jupiter, 
Dabuntque Neptunus, et Eolus, et Jupiter.* 


Sic, O sic siat I IsBto exultate triumpbo. 
Terra ferax, mare fluctisonum, resonabilis Eccho : 
Vivant, cetemum vivant, pia numina, fratres ! 
Vivant, Vivant ! 

The umblest servant 
of your sacred Majesty, 
John Marston. 

* In MS. legitur, Neptunus, Eolus, Jupiter; Monosyllaba 
h»o duo interposita xnetrum ad iambicos Marstonianos (non 
Horatianos, ffttemur) restituunt. — HaU, 


From Chester^ s Loves Martyr, or Rosalins Com- 
plaint, published in the year 1601. 

J Narration and Description of a most exact wondrous 
Creature, arising out of the Fhosnix and Turtle-Dot)^ s 

O 'TWAS a moving Epicedium ! 
9 Oan fire, can time, can blackest fate consume 
So rare creation ? No, tis thwart to sense i 
Corruption quakes to toucli sucli excellence ; 
Nature exclaims for justice, justice fate, — 
Ought into nought can never remigrate. 
Then look ; for see what glorious issue, brighter 
Than clearest fire, and beyond faith far whiter 
Than Dian*s tier, now springs from yonder flame ! 
Let me stand numb'd with- wonder; never came 
So strong amazement on astonish'd eye 
As this, this measureless pure rarity. 
Lo, now, th' extracture of Divinest essence, 
The soul of Heaven's labour'd quintessence, 
(Feans to Phcebus 1), your dear lover's death 
Takes sweet creation and all-blessing breath. 

328 VER8E8. 

What strangeness is't, that from the Turtle's ashes 
Assumes such form P whose splendour clearer flashes, 
Than mounted Delius ? Tell me, genuine muse I 
Now yield your aids, you spirits that infuse 
A sacred rapture, light my weaker eye, 
Baise my invention on swift fantasy ; 
That whibt of this same Metaphysical, 
God, man, nor woman, but elix'd of all. 
My labouring thoughts with strained ardour sing, 
My muse may mount with an uncommon wing. 

The Betcription of this Ferfectiom, 

DAEES then thy too audacious sense 
Presume define that boundless Mia, 
That amplest thought transcendeth ? 
yet vouchsafe, my muse, to greet 
That wondrous rareness, in whose sweet 
All praise begins and endeth. 

Divinest Beauty ! that was slightest. 
That adom'd this wondrous Brightest, 

Which had nought to be corrupted 
In this ; perfection had no mean ; 
To this, earth's purest was unclean, 

Which virtue ever instructed. 

By it all beings deck'd and stained, 
Ideas that are idly feigned 

Only here subsist invested; 

VERSES. 329 

Dread not to give strain'd praise at all. 
No speech is kyperbolieal 

To this Perfection blessed. 

Thus dose my rhymes ; this all that can be said, 
This wonder never can be flattered. 

To TerfectUm.—A Sownei. 

OFT have I gazed with astonish'd eye 
At monstrous issues of ill-shaped birth. 
When I have seen the midwife to old Earth, 
Nature, produce the most strange deformity. 

So have I marveU'd to observe of late 
Hardrfavour'd feminines so scant of fair. 
That masks so choicely, sheltered of the air, 

As if their beauties were not theirs by fate. 

But who so weak of observation. 
Hath not discem'd long since how virtues wanted. 
How parsimoniously the Heavens have scanted 

Our chiefest part of adoration P 

But now I cease to wonder, now I find 

The cause of all our monstrous penny-shows ; 
Now I conceit from whence wit scarcely grgws, 

Hard-favour'd features, and defects of mind. 

Nature long time hath stored up virtue, fairness, 
Shaping the rests as foils unto this Eareness. 

330 VERSES. 

Peffectioni Hymnm, 

TTTHAT should I caU this Creature, 

▼ ▼ Which now is grown unto maturity ? 
How should I blaze this feature 
ka firm and constant as eternity ? 

Call it perfection? Fie! 

'Tis perfect the brightest names can light it ; 
Call it Heaven's mirror I? 

Alas ! best attributes can never right it. 

Beauty's resistless thunder? 

All nomination is too straight of sense ; 
Deep contemplations wonder ? 

That appellation give this excellence. 

Within all best confin'd, 

(Now, feebler Genius, end thy slighter rhyming), 
No suburbs,* — all is mind, — 

As far from spot as possible defining. 

John Maeston. 

* Differentia Deorom et Hominum, apud Senecam ; Sic habet 
nostri melior pars animum, in illifl nulla pars extra animum. 




Page 23, line 9. J3wt aseape, — " But as a scape," some eds. 

Page 44, line 21. Gfirdleatead. — ^That is, the waist, the place 
where the girdle is worn. " Qyrdell-stede, /ati^d? du corps" 
Palsgraye, 1530. 

Page 52, line 2. Intelligencers, — ^Here follows, in some copies, 
the following passage, which is believed to be one of those which 
gave offence to the King : — ^ only a few industrous Scots perhaps, 
who indeed are dispersed oyer the iace of the whole earth. But 
as for them, there are no greater friends to Englishmen and 
England, when thej are out on *t in the world, than they are ? 
and for my own part, I would a hundred thousand of them were 
there, for we are all one countrymen now ye know, and we should 
find ten times more comfort of them there, than we do here/' 

Page 55, line 26. Sir Francie Drdke*a ship, — ^Alluding to 
the celebrated yessel in which Sir F. Drake sailed round the 
world, which was for many years preserved at Deptford. It is 
thus alluded to in some notices of '* sights" in a poem by Peacham, 
1611 :— 

Brake's ship at Betford, King Bdchard's bedsted i' Leyster; 
The Whitehall whale-bones, the silver bason i' Chester. 

Page 64, line 16. One of my thirty pound Knights, — In ri- 
dicule of the easy way in which persons purchased Knighthood 
in the reign of James I. The author of Hans Beer-Pot, 1618, 
speaking of the " honour," says : — 

But nov, alas 1 it 's g^rowne lidicnlons. 

Since bought with money, sold fiDr basest prize, 

That some refose it, which are counted wise. 

Page 106, line 25. As tribute, — ^The edition of 1613 properly 
reads, a tribute. 

Page 107, line 26. Those Kps were his.—^ all the old edi- 

. 382 NOTES, 

tions ; and the line, standing thas, might refer to Hercules and 
the Hesperian Fruit, were Hercules one of the " feminine deities." 
The alluflioD, howerer, is evidently to Yenus. — Anon, ed. 

Page 109, line 11. Unter Mizaldus aad Mendoza.—TYna, like 
many of the other stage-directions, is dearly erroneous. It should 
be, '* re-enter Bogero and Quido (Mizaldus).** 

Page 112, line 31. 8t, Agnes ntgM.—*' I could finde in my 
heart to pray nine times to the moone, and fast three St. Agnes's 
Eyes, so that I might be sure to have him to my huslMind," 
Oupid*s Whirligig, 1607. 

Page 113, line 16. Ottr baeke'Ctrbors.-^Our old dramatists 
continually introduce in foreign countries the customs, &c., of 
their own. These backe-arbors were doubtless better known to 
the ladies of London, than to those of Yenice. Stubbes, in his 
Anatomic of Abuses, 1598, speaking of the citizens* wives, 
says, *' In the fields and suburbs, they have gardens, either paled 
or walled round about yery high, with their barbers and bowers 
fit for the purpose.** — Anon, ed. 

Page 119, line 28. Countesae qf Swevia. — Count of Cyprus, 
ed. 1613. 

Page 183, line 8. Points to the ringe. — ^This, though given as 
part of the text, is evidently a stage-direction. 

Page 139, hne 6. Gone,—^o in ed. 1631. Ching, ed. 1613. 

^ Page 146, line 24. Selfes lahowr, — Here should have been in- 

f serted the following stage-direction, as in ed. 1613 : — " Se-enter 

^ the Watch, with Claridiana and Mizaldus, taken in one another's 

houses, in their shirts and night-gowns. They see one another.** 

Page 155, line 11. Enters into, — ^Entrance, ed. 1613. 

Page 158, line 17. Isabella set her window, — ^The respective 
situations of the parties are not very clearly pointed out here. 
It api>ears as if the Countess addressed Bogero from the window 
of an inner apartment. — Anon, ed. 

Page 177, Une 3. rofe-W«%.— Yoice-killing, ed. 1613. It 
may well be doubted whether either be the correct reading. The 
fearful properties attributed to the mandrake are frequently 
alluded to. Brown, in his Yulgar Errors, ed. 1658, p. Iw, thus 
mentions some of them : — " The last concemeth the danger ensumg, 
that there follows an hajsard of life to them that pull it up, that 

NOTES. 833 

some eril £eite puraaes them, and they live not yery long after. 
Therefore the attempt hereof among the ancients was not in ordi- 
nary way, but as Pliny informeth, when they intended to take up 
the root of this plant, they took the winde thereof, and with a 
sword describing three circles about it, they digged it up, looking 
toward the west. A conceit not only injurious unto truth, and 
confutable by daily experience, but somewhat derogatory unto 
the providence of God ; that is not only to impose so destructive 
a quality on any plant, but conceive a vegitable, whose parts are 
usefull unto many, should in the only taking up prove mortall 
unto any. To think he sufiereth the poison of Nubia to be 
gathered, Napellus, Aconite, and Thora to be eradicated, yet this 
not to be moved. That he permitteth asenick and mineral poi- 
sond to be forced from the bowels of the earth, yet not this from 
the surface thereof. This were to introduce a second forbidden 
fruit, andinhance the first malediction ; making it not only mortal 
for Adam to taste the one, but capitall unto his posterity to 
eradicate or dig up the other.*' 

Page 213. Satyres, — Our author, as a satirist, is thus spoken 
of in an epigram "ad Johannem Marstonem" in the Affanim of 
Charles FitzgeflEVy, 1601 :— 

Gloria Marstoni Satyranim proxiina primse, 

Frimaque, fas primas si numerare duas ; 
Sin primam duplicare uefas, tu gloria saltern 

Marstoni primee proxima semper eris. 
Nee te pseniteat stationis, Jane : secundns, 

Cum duo sint tantom, est neuter; atambopar^a. 

Page 214, line 18. DcmffUng feake, — Perhaps a hanging or 
pendent lock. No other example of the word has yet occurred. 

Page 219, line 18. Meal-mouWd. — ^Delicate-mouthed, unable 
to bring out harsh or strong expressions. This term, which 
survives in the form of mealtf-mouthedf appears to have been the 
original word ; applied to one whose words are fine and soft as 
meal, as Minsheu well explains it. Most irequently apptied to 
affected and hypocritical delicacy of speech. — Narea. 

Page 220, line 22. JBrasell howle. — Queiy, for Brazil bowl, a 
bowl for playing with, made of hard Brazilian wood. 

Page 223, line 17. Appeares a fall, — The fall and the ruff 
are occasionally mentioned as worn together, but, strictly speak- 
ing, the £eJl succeeded the ruff. 

Page 223, line 18. Sweet nittie youth, — The word mttie 

334 NOTES. 

seems here strangely used, possibly from niiidWf imless it be 
presumed that Marston is speaking ironically. 

Page 235, line 9. La/oer-lvp. — ^Hall, in his Satires, has lave" 
ea^d for lop-eared, and laming in the sense of lapping or flapping. 
Layer-lip, observes Na^s, is probably only another form of the 
same word, metaphorically used ; hanging lip, quasi lap-ear' d lip. 

Page 237, line 20. Make. — So printed in the copy referred 
to, but probably an error for marke. 

Page 242, line 26. — Cyteme heads. — The top of the cyttem . 
was formerly often carved in the shape of a grotesque head. 

Page 243, line 6. Slew-coates. — ^Betamers, servants. 

Page 247, line 20. Chtzzell dogs.— In other words, dogs of 
the gutter or drain. A small gutter is still called a guzzle in 
some of the provinces. 

Page 260, line 25. To luskish Athens. — This is, to lazy Athens. 
"Bouse thee, thou sluggish bird, and leave thy luskish nest," 
Drayton. Marston, in a subsequent satire, has luskingj idling. 

Page 272, line 23. JPitch-hlack loveries. — Marston probably 
here refers to the loover, a tunnel or opening in the top of a great 
hall through which the smoke escaped. Hall apparently uses 
the term lovery for the turret or small belfry over this opening. 
Bee Hall's Satires, ed. Singer, p. 131. 

Page 273, line 21. A packstaffe epithete.— That is, an epithet 
worthy of a pedler, the packstaff being the staffe on which he car- 
ried his pack. 

Page 275, line 21. Johhemoule. — ^That is, blockhead. 

Page 280, line 26. JSlacksaunt of the Geate.—Blacksamt, 
corrupted f^m black sanctus, used to signify any confused or 
hideous noise. Though Geate makes no rhyme, I presume that 
licentious and bad writer must have written it so. He seems to 
mean the G^ts ; if his meaning be worth guessing. He pro- 
fessedly scorns correct rhyming. — Nares. 

Page 282, line 3. Luxuriousnesse. — That is^ , incontinence. 
The term is of constant use in this sense. 

Page 282, line 11. Termagant. — The Saracen divinity of the 
old romance : — " the child of the earthquake and of the thunder, 
the brother of death." 

Page 28S, line 24. Sier seate of sense is her rehato set.—The 

NOTES. 335 

rebato was a kind of plaited ruff, which tmrned back and lav on 
the shoulders. It was kept in shape by wire, and appears, m>m 
some notices, to have been properly a kind of short falling ruff, 
which was firequently used as a supporter for a larger ruff; and 
it was yery probably an improvement of the more antique " sup* 
portasse," mentioned by Stubbes. " Da rivolto^ turning downe 
as a fiJHng band, or a womans rabato," Florio's Worlde of 
Wordes, 1598, p. 96. " A rabato for a woman's band, Q-. rahat, 
^ rahatre, id est, to fall or draw backe, because the band doth 
fidl backe on the rabato," Minsheu. "Q-ive me my rabato of 
cut-woike edged ; is not the wyer after the same sort as the other," 
Erondelle's Dialogues. 

Page 292, line 21. JPtaym^ at put-pin, — ^The game of put-pin, 
or push-pin, is thus played : two pins are laid upon the table ; 
each one in turn jerks them with his finger, and he who throws 
one pin across another is allowed to take one of them ; those who 
do not succeed must give a pin. Push-pin is mentioned by 
Miege as the jeu ^epvngles. 

Page 299, line 8. Kinsing, — This is, of course, in allusion to 
Marsden's assumed name of Kinsayder. 

Page 301, line 11. Orchestra,-^ThQ poem by Sir J. Davies, 

Page 301, line 15. Kempsjigge, — See the Eev. A. Dyce's edi- 
tion of £emp's Nine Dales Wonder, 1840, introd. p. xz. 

THE BN2>. 


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